And if I Could Never Find You
by Prose
Summary: Draco and Harry have been seeing each other secretly for most of their seventh year, but as the end of the term approaches each begins to wonder how the other feels. Features gay sex, language, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol consumption.
1. Chapter One

A/N: Hello, all! For those of you who were expecting the next chapter from my other story, don't worry; that's coming soon. Sorry about the wait. Either I couldn't find the time, or nothing "inspired" me. Actually, I got the idea for this story while trying to find some inspiration for "Running To Stand Still." I was looking for a song to title the eighth chapter and I came across Breaking Benjamin's CDs ("Saturate," and "We Are Not Alone"), and the next thing I knew I had a story planned out in my head. I couldn't very well continue my other story if there was a completely different one zipping about in my brain, could I? No, I couldn't. Don't kill me, please. Oh yeah, and if you've never heard any of Breaking Benjamin's songs before, you should totally go and buy their CDs... or just look up their lyrics; sets the mood.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the quotes (duh, since they're quotes), not the characters. I'm simply taking J.K. Rowling's characters and stuff and shifting them around to suit my somewhat messed up imagination. Which is, I guess, why they call this a fanfic. Huh, go figure.

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Chapter One

"Sooner or later, you're gonna hate it

Go ahead and throw our life away"

"Sooner Or Later," Breaking Benjamin

Draco had to wait for him again. He almost always had to wait since Potter couldn't seem to get anywhere on time. Not that Draco was desperate; he was never anxious to see Potter. He was just efficient, not desperate. Draco didn't need Potter; he didn't need anybody, and nobody needed him. Except for, maybe, Potter. No, Potter seemed to feel relatively the same way, but he probably had it worse because he had to pretend to care. But Potter didn't have to pretend when he was with Draco, which was why he kept coming back.

Not that that would last long. Draco was used to things drifting away; he had had to learn to accept bitter endings early on in his life. Anything that he found he enjoyed even the slightest bit was taken away from him in some way or another, so he rejected anything that made him happy and taught himself to love to hate anything that displeased him. However, he had enjoyed hating Potter, and now they were fucking each other whenever they could find the time. And when they didn't have the time, they just blew off whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be doing and engaged in some sort of sexual activity that took their minds off of things for awhile. So maybe he had never hated Potter as much as he thought he did. Yeah, right. But still... Potter was the first person in Draco's entire life that had ever made him feel like that was okay. Draco could hate Potter as much as he possibly could, and at the end of the day,the guy would still come back to him and take even more.

And a Malfoy never passed up an opportunity to express hate. Which meant Potter really had to be able to accept... no, like... what was done to him in order to keep crawling back. Not that Potter didn't give as good as he got. Potter could make Draco feel like the lowest scum of the earth before leaving him there on the floor. And Draco wouldgo back to Potter as well because when he felt like scum, he felt alive, real, normal... almost.

But Draco was coming close to admitting the one thing that, ultimately, always brought him pain: he, heaven forbid, enjoyed something. Which meant it would have to end soon. And it would, since the end of their last year at Hogwarts was coming fast. That is, if Potter didn't back out first. Draco wouldn't put it past him, since Potter was supposed to be good; he was supposed to have morals. He probably did, as hard as that was to believe sometimes, since he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. Potter's bloody morality would kick in sometime and bring their... well, whatever it was that they had... to a grinding halt. Then Potter would blame Draco for dragging him into it all because a Gryffindor could never willingly participate in a sexual relationship that didn't involve love or at least _some _form of admiration. Of course it had to be the Slytherin's fault: the Slytherin made the Gryffindor hate himself, and the Slytherin obviously made the Gryffindor throw nearly an entire year of life out the window. And then finally the Gryffindor would drive the Slytherin deep into the ground and walk away, not bothering to look back since a Slytherin wasn't worth the effort.

But what else could Draco expect from the guy? Potter always made himself look like the hero, the victim. He was the Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy. Of course, Draco knew very well that there was absolutely no "boyishness" about Potter. Their first night together still made him cringe. Potter had some major issues. He'd drive into Draco, muttering under his breath about how he'd never be able to live up to their expectations, how he wanted a normal life... he was a member of a very large club. Draco knew exactly what disappointment was like; he saw it in his father's eyes every time they bothered to look in his direction.

But out of everything that Potter had coming to him, he did not deserve disappointment; Voldemort had attacked him when he was a defenseless little baby and had miraculously disappeared, and for that the entire wizarding world had decided that Potter would grow up to be great and destroy all of the evil monsters. Draco could understand Potter's inferiority complex; Potter wasn't trying to live up to his big brother's shadow, he was trying to live up to the shadow cast by the image that the wizarding world had made him out to be.

So Draco would be there for Potter. Draco would make himforget, at least temporarily, about everything that waited for him outside of their secret. Potter wouldn't think about the future when Draco was there. Just like Potter wouldn't let Draco think about the future. They were in it together... until one of them broke down and decided to run away.

Potter would be the first one to lose it. He had to be since a Malfoy couldn't back out of a deal first, even though Draco had seen his father do just that plenty of times. Potter would run away from Draco, from what they had, and he'd take everything with him. He'd throw everything away, convincing himself that he didn't care; Potter was the victim, even though he'd done some equally evil things. Draco couldn't blame him, though; Potter was still, underneath it all, innocent. No matter how intense things could get between them sometimes, deep down, Potter still believed that life was going to mean something someday. To Potter, Draco was some kind of parasite that was sucking the ability to feel, to care, right out of him.

And Draco was, to a certain extent anyway. When he watched Potter laughing and joking with his friends, he'd feel something burning inside him, threatening to make him explode. When he'd had the chance to make Potter feel just as lowly and unimportant as he did, he had taken it without a moment's hesitation. The only problem was that he had done his job so well that Potter couldn't give anything back other than what he was getting, and now they were both being dragged into some sort of cold, dark, never-ending vortex.

Draco had gone to see a psychiatrist at the insistence of Narcissa, and the idiot who called himself a doctor had said he was in love. If what he was feeling was love, then he hated it. When he'd pushed the idea away and called the moron an assortment of biting adjectives, the shrink had said that his mother had signed him up for the sessions because she was concerned for him. After the session was finished, Draco had left the office stuck on the word "mother." It sounded foreign to him. At least when it concerned his own. His family had never been what one could consider normal or traditional. At least, that's what Draco had concluded when he'd watched his fellow students with their families. His father had always been aloof, only noticing his son was there when he had to teach him about some spell, a family law, or something along those lines. His mother had always been the manipulative, deceptive bitch that everybody said she was when they were, at least so they thought, out of earshot. But they didn't have to bother to hide their opinions from Narcissa since she knew what she was as well. So she practically drowned herself in alcohol and made her son's life a living hell in order to lie to herself.

If there was one thing that Draco did not love to hate, it was a lie. Lies were the only thing that he couldn't handle. When Narcissa pretended to be a blissful wife and mother, Draco wanted to yell and scream at her until she finally broke down and admitted that she was just as miserable and hateful as he was. When his father pretended to care about him for a few hours so he could teach him some sort of lesson that he deemed valuable, Draco wanted to beat the man until all he had left was the empty core of his existence. Whenever he had to cast some sort of illusion spell at Hogwarts, Draco put it off and complained about it as long as he could before finally just getting it over with. In his opinion, illusions were lies, lies were empty shells, empty shells represented a lack of truth, and Draco had never had truth to begin with so if he saw something where truth might have once been, he felt the fire start up inside him again. And the one shell that Draco hated most, the one shell that made the burning inside him shoot up like a conflagration and threaten to consume him, was Potter's pretending to be a good, wholesome, brave boy. Potter had everybody fooled. Except Draco; he knew that deep inside, Potter could be just as malicious and nasty as he could. But Potter would never find the courage to show the world who he really was.

So Draco would continue to keep the truth away from Potter for as long as he could. Maybe that was why Potter's lie burned him up the most; it was the only lie that Draco wanted to protect, to keep, to believe, because Potter would be gone when he couldn't hide from the truth anymore. And then Draco's escape would be gone. And then he'd have to face his own lie: he liked what he had with Potter.

The closet door creaked open and Potter entered the room quietly. "Sorry," he said, his tone indicating that he really didn't care if he'd made Draco wait or not. Both of them waited for Potter's eyes to adjust to the lack of light. After a minute or so passed, Potter moved closer to him. "Malfoy?" he asked, a single eyebrow raised.

Draco stepped forward so that he was inches away from Potter. When Potter's other brow shot up somewhere into his hair, Draco reached out and unfastened Potter's belt and pants, letting them fall down around his ankles. "So, I guess this means I'm first this time?" Potter asked sardonically. Draco grunted and pushed Potter against the wall. Potter took the hint and shut up.

Draco dropped to his knees and took Potter's cock into his mouth; it was all just business, a deal, so why did they have to go through anything else? Draco paused briefly when he noticed Potter wasn't reacting at all: his eyes were closed tiredly and his breathing was even. Draco reached up and grabbed Potter's hips, tugging them toward his mouth. Potter broke out of his thoughts and buried his fingers into Draco's hair, massaging his head while his eyes remained closed. Draco relaxed and began to work at Potter's cock with a bit more leisure than before. Potter's breath hitched in his throat and he thrust forward slightly. It took him longer to get into "it" every night, and soon he most likely wouldn't be able to feel it at all. Draco didn't want to think about it, so he focused exclusively on making Potter forget that he was the Golden Boy, that he had a forced destiny. Potter moaned softly and shuddered.

A few seconds passed before Draco realized Potter had said something. "What?" he asked, pulling away slightly.

Potter pushed the other boy's head back toward his cock. "I said, 'harder.' Suck harder."

Draco resumed the task at hand, giving Potter what he wanted. He could sense that Potter needed to have what he wanted; something was wrong in "paradise." Potter would make up for everything later.

Potter grunted and began to thrust into Draco's mouth, tightening his grip onthe blonde's hair. "Mm... Malfoy, hurt me."

Draco immediately dug his nails into Potter's hips and shoved him roughly against the wall, not breaking their steady rhythm. Potter's breath caught in his throat. Draco moved back so he could look up, his mouth remaining at work. Potter's eyes were still closed.Draco hated it when Potter's eyes were closed. He scraped his teeth lightly against the flesh in his mouth, and Potter's eyes shot open dazedly, his lips parted in surprise. It was a good kind of surprise though; if Potter didn't like something, he ran away from it. Then again, sometimes Draco ran away from what he liked, too.

It wouldn't be much longer before Potter came. Draco always knew what Potter wanted, just like Potter always knew what Draco wanted. They wanted the same thing: to forget.

Potter gave one final strangled cry, and Draco swallowed the sweet saltiness that was, essentially, Potter. Then he rose to his feet and pulled down his own pants, waiting for Potter to recover. Potter's breathing gradually returned to normal and he reached down and pulled his pants up, fastened them. Looked at Draco. Moved over to him and dropped to his knees without bothering to fasten his belt. Set to work giving Draco a return blow job.

Draco leaned back against the wall and inhaled deeply. Potter's mouth always felt warm; it was Potter's skin that betrayed his emotions. Some nights he would be warm, open. Well, as open as he had ever been with Draco. But other nights, when something was bothering him, Draco could give Potter the best sex of his life and his skin would still be pale and cold. It always scared Draco when he couldn't make Potter warm again; it seemed like Potter was dying. And he probably was. Maybe Draco was scared because when Potter was cold, the truth was closer to the surface.

Draco placed his hands on either side of Harry's head, feeling for the warmth he needed. His fingertips came in contact with Potter's flushed skin and he had to hold back a sigh of relief. But the relief was slowly replaced with annoyance. Why did Potter convince himself that life actually meant something? How could he believe that the people who worshipped him really cared about him and didn't just want him to die for them?

Potter must have sensed Draco's agitation because he slowed his progress. Draco could practically feel the guy thinking. But Potter would never actually ask what was wrong. He'd wonder about it, maybe, but he'd ask. Neither of them ever asked each other questions about anything outside of what was needed in order to forget; it just wasn't part of the deal. Draco, afraid that Potter would forget the deal, began to rub his fingers gently over Potter's temples in reassurance. Potter quickened his pace again, and Draco tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He'd come faster if he allowed his mind to wander off somewhere and let his body do the "thinking."

And, sure enough, a couple of minutes later his body jerked convulsively and he came into Potter's mouth. He collapsed onto the floor and his mind careened back into his body.

"You did it again," Potter stated softly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his index finger.

"Did what?" Draco asked, rising to his feet so he could pull up his pants.

"Went off somewhere."

"I didn't go anywhere. I was right here."

"Physically, yeah. Sometimes you just... leave. You know? It's kind of like astral projection or something like that." Potter turned to study the bunches of dusty potions bottles that were on the shelves and ran a hand through his hair.

"What, is that a problem?" Draco asked. If it was, he wouldn't stop anyway.

And Potter knew that. "...No. I guess I'm just sort of jealous, that's all." He blew some of the dust off of the bottles, began picking at the hem of his sleeve.

"Why?"

"It'd be nice to get out of the world sometimes without actually going anywhere." Potter glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye, then turned away to survey a bunch of crates and cardboard boxes stacked up against the back wall of the room.

"What makes you think I leave this world?" Draco asked. For some reason, he was genuinely interested. Maybe it was because Potter actually wanted something that he couldn't really have. And if he could, it wouldn't be the same; Draco had had it first.

"There's no way you could still be in this world and look that careless," Potter said quietly, brushing some dust off of one of the boxes. "It's like... it's like you're not restless anymore but you're also not what one would consider peaceful. I don't know... catatonic, perhaps?" Potter finally looked into Draco's eyes. "Thanks for tonight. Again." He nodded once for emphasis, hands in pockets, then left the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Draco remained in the darkness, his eyes widened with shock. Never in the entire time they'd kept the deal had either of them thanked each other. What did it mean? Potter's morality couldn't be breaking through now, could it? Why not? He was a bloody Gryffindor and Gryffindors were, without a doubt, the most annoying out of all of the houses. Put together. But Potter couldn't start feeling guilty now; their deal would have to end.

Draco kicked at an old metal tool that had fallen onto the floor, making it ricochet against the wall and clang a few times when it hit the floor again. Potter has a breakdown and the whole thing ends. Then it's going to be the old routine all over again; fight with each other, complain about the fighting, complain about each other, take out their anger on their fellow students, pretend to feel guilty, shag anyone who's willing, and avoid talk of anything to do with a relationship afterward. One of the reasons Draco had approached Potter in the first place was because they'd hated each other so much that there could have been no possibility of a relationship. But did Potter actually want one now? Because if he did... that was even worse than just up and running away. Wasn't it?

But there in the dark, surrounded by old, broken, outdated supplies and dusty shelves and boxes, Draco found that maybe, just maybe, if they could break through their hate and their pain, he and Potter could actually make it work; be how he'd always thought lovers should be.

And if there was one thing that Draco hated more than lies, it was truth.

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A/N: So, what did you think? Next chapter's going to be based more on Harry's perspective. Oh, I'm going to refer to Harry as "Potter," in most of Draco's chapters, and Harry will think of Draco as "Malfoy," since that's what they'd normally do anyway. If the story's confusing sometimes, sorry. Anyway, let me know what you think, or pretend you didn't see the review thingy at the bottom and read something else (or do anything you want other than reviewing my story).


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: So, here's chapter two, and it's in Harry's point of view. Sort of. Once again, I suggest you either listen to Breaking Benjamin's songs, or at least read their lyrics, because I base each of my chapters on one particular song (see the quotes I use at the beginning of each chapter).

Disclaimer: I'm not likely to own anything because this is a fanfic, so I'll just let you know when I add something that's mine. Or from another book or something. So, to summarize, everything from here on out is J.K. Rowling's or Breaking Benjamin's (see quotes) unless I tell you different.

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Chapter Two

"Why should I have to wait?

I'll just look the other way"

"Wish I May," Breaking Benjamin

Thanks? He'd actually thanked Malfoy? Why? What had possessed him to do such a thing? Harry stared at the parchment in front of him, which was covered in notes that he'd been taking the entire class period. He didn't even remember writing anything down. But this didn't scare him anymore; he couldn't remember a lot of things now. One morning he woke up to find Ron talking to him about the trip to Hogsmeade they'd taken the day before, and Harry had actually asked Ron if he'd gone with him. Ron had looked at him like he was insane and felt his forehead.

But when he forgot, he didn't have to remember. And when he didn't have to remember, he didn't have to think.

"Harry? Harry, man, are you okay?" Ron whispered loudly, his lips almost touching Harry's ear.

Harry absentmindedly wiped away the spit that had landed on the ridge of his ear. "What? Yeah, I'm fine," he replied automatically. He didn't have to look up to know that Ron was still eyeing him worriedly. Nobody could stand it when the Boy Who Lived acted like a normal seventeen year old boy.

And sure enough, two seconds later Hermione and Neville were asking Ron what was wrong, and Ron shrugged, and Hermione frowned at Harry, and Neville looked clueless. Harry repressed the urge to sigh and forced himself to look up at Professor Binns, who was going on monotonously about another war. He briefly scanned the room, noticing that everybody else was spaced out or asleep. But he couldn't drift off in class; what if Voldemort came the second his eyes closed? He'd probably just let Voldemort have at everybody. How would the world like their precious Golden Boy then?

"What's so funny, Harry?" Hermione asked, noticing the wry smile that was twisting Harry's lips into a weak half-smile. Harry's lips immediately straightened. "Nothing," he muttered. Nothing was funny about the world anymore. Except for the deal. The deal was funny. Harry was sneaking off every chance he got so he could be with, of all people, Malfoy. And nobody knew. But that wasn't what made the deal funny. No, what was funny was that Malfoy, Harry's arch enemy, was the only person in the entire world that could make him forget. Forget about the destiny that everyone forced onto him. Forget about living up to the expectations of the wizarding world. Forget about the world in general. When Harry was with Malfoy, the only thing Harry thought about was what Malfoy was doing to him, or what Harry could do to Malfoy. And then they'd do it all again.

But he just might have ruined it all the night before. Why had he thanked Malfoy? Why had he even opened his mouth for anything other than sucking Malfoy off at all? He knew he'd scared Malfoy. Had he scared him enough to make him run away? Because if he had, then Harry would have to stop running. And Harry didn't want to stop running. He never wanted to stop running. Harry smiled humorlessly. It was ironic; the brave Boy Who Lived wanted to escape. The Prophecy had said Neville could have been the one to defeat Voldemort. Why the hell couldn't Voldemort have Apparated to the Longbottoms' house and tried to kill Neville, for Merlin's sake? What was Harry going to do when the time came for him to fight? He'd just barely managed to survive everything else the Dark Lord had thrown at him. How was he going to kill Voldemort? How was he even going to keep himself alive in order to kill him?

Harry realized he'd been clenching his fists too tightly when his quill snapped in half, and loudly. Professor Binns looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Um... sorry," Harry apologized, not really paying attention to what he was saying. "Can I... er... go get another one?"

Professor Binns nodded. "Hurry back."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, knowing that Professor Binns wouldn't notice if he never came back at all; why would a boring ghost absorbed in history care about the apparent savior of the wizarding world? Harry hadn't even saved the world. His mother had. If it hadn't been for her, he'd be dead. Everybody would be dead. Or enslaved. Or they'd be whatever Voldemort had planned for them to be when he'd gone crazy and decided to try to take over the world.

Harry left the classroom slowly, his hands shoved in his pockets, not looking up from the floor; too many "concerned" students would be watching him. He exited the room, hearing the door creak shut behind him. Why would anybody want the world, anyway? The world sucked. The world was a spinning inferno that was going to suck everybody into hell some day. Everyone that wanted to rule the nightmare that was the world was insane. And even more gone were the people that worshipped Harry for subjecting them to yet another day of suck. If Harry saw himself walking down the road, he wouldn't ask him for an autograph or thank him. He'd pull out his wand, point it at him, and Kedavra him right then and there. Why couldn't Harry have just died like everybody else? Saviors had it rough. Look at Jesus; he was crucified, and then he had, of all possible hells, to come back and prove that resurrection was possible. He'd shown that death was a lie. If there was one other person in the entire world that Harry actually wanted to Kedavra besides himself, it was Jesus. And if Jesus came back again, Harry would just keep blasting the damned kook over and over again until he took the hint and stayed dead. Who cared if death was a lie? To Harry, death seemed to be the best goddamned lie, period.

And then Harry wanted to forget. Needed to forget. If Malfoy was scared, then Harry was about to find out. At the moment, Malfoy had Charms. Harry turned around abruptly and made his way to Professor Flitwick's classroom as fast as he could, not caring if anyone caught him out of class.

When he reached his destination, he crept up to the small window in the middle of the door slowly, peering through it so he could see Malfoy. Making sure that nobody else noticed him, Harry stood there, willing Malfoy to look up. He did. Harry jerked his head in the direction of the room they met in when they were on that particular floor. Malfoy nodded, slowly, then signaled with his hand that he'd be there in five minutes. Harry nodded briskly and hurried off to their meeting place.

Harry walked up to the enormous portrait of a pretty lady in green and reached out and pushed one of the emeralds that bordered the picture into the frame. The portrait sunk into the wall, then moved slowly to the left, revealing a dark, hidden room. Harry hurried inside and pulled down on the candleholder attached to the wall that triggered the portrait to slide back in place.

Malfoy and Harry had discovered the place by accident when they had been, coincidentally, trying to find somewhere to do what they needed to do. Malfoy had slammed Harry against the portrait and they'd started snogging enthusiastically when the portrait had moved back, causing them to fall forward. Orrather, Malfoy had fallen forward while Harry had toppled backward.They'd entered and surveyed the room, and decided that it was perfect for whenever they needed to, as Malfoy put it, "take care of business" when they were on that particular floor.

Harry looked around, trying to find something to keep him occupied while he waited for Malfoy. At least he didn't have to worry about Malfoy being late; a Malfoy was always on time. Even for his or her own death sentence. Creepy. Harry couldn't really base anything he did on his family, since he couldn't really remember anything about his parents. So when he was late, he couldn't say it ran in the family. When he found that he preferred fucking, or being fucked by, boys more than girls, he couldn't explain that he got it from one of his ancestors. In any case, he probably didn't get it from his parents, since he was evidence that they had had sex.

Harry sat down in one of the swivel chairs in the room and lifted his feet up so they rested on the table. Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and folded his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. The room he and Malfoy had found was, or had been, some sort of hidden conference room. There was a long, thin table that stretched across almost the entire length of the room, dozens of chairs, an overhead fixture, a slide projector, file cabinets, a podium, a blackboard, charts that Harry didn't understand, etc. Judging by the way there was no dust in the room and the furniture was freshly polished, the room was still used by people other than him and Malfoy. Then again, magic might have been what kept the room clean.

Harry didn't realize he had drifted off until his legs were knocked off the table and he was whirled around in his chair to face Malfoy. "Tired?" Malfoy asked, tracing Harry's jaw with his index finger. Harry shrugged, sitting up straighter in the chair. Malfoy's smile was deceptively soft. He enjoyed dragging out sex when Harry was tired because it took more out of him. Malfoy gripped Harry's chin tightly between his index finger and thumb and kissed him gently. Harry remained still, knowing better than to respond; if he tried to give Malfoy anything in return before he wanted it, then Malfoy would either pull away and wait for Harry to back down, or end the "session" right then altogether.

Malfoy, turned on by Harry's immediate submission, wrapped his other arm around Harry and dug his nails into the middle of his back right next to his spine, making Harry moan. Malfoy kissed the corner of Harry's mouth, his jaw, started biting and sucking at his neck, got down to the fabric of Harry's robes and grunted in frustration. He pulled back and undid Harry's robes, tossing them across the room, then literally ripped off Harry's shirt. Harry bit back his weak protests, feeling both overly exposed and extremely turned on at the same time. Malfoy studied Harry's tie for a second. "Leave it," he commanded. Harry wouldn't have reached up to take it off anyway; this was for Malfoy just as much as it was for him.

Malfoy looked down at the bulge that was pressing up against Harry's jeans and grinned patronizingly. He bent over and kissed it, making Harry unbearably warm. Malfoy looked up at Harry, whose cheeks were tinted a rosy pink in contrast to his brilliant green eyes, and frowned. He reached up and snatched off Harry's glasses, tossing them onto the table.

"Hey..." Harry started to protest.

"You don't need them, anyway," Malfoy cut in. "You don't have to see anything. I just have to see you." He caressed one side of Harry's face with his hand before threading his fingers into Harry's hair. "And don't close your eyes this time," he added, the pad of his thumb rubbing Harry's cheekbone softly. He reached down with one hand and quickly unfastened Harry's pants, then tugged them off along with his boxers.

Harry looked calmly at Malfoy, not knowing that he looked like a broken China doll. Malfoy produced a low, growl-like noise from deep inside his throat and parted Harry's legs open wider, one hand still stroking Harry's hair softly. Harry braced himself; the softer Malfoy was in the beginning, the rougher the sex would be. Sure enough, Malfoy moved his hands to the arms of the chair and pushed it violently against the table, then took off his own clothes just as quickly as he'd taken off Harry's. He stepped forward and straddled Harry, planting his knees on either side of Harry's thighs. He gripped both of the chair's arms and lifted himself up, then lowered himself onto Harry, letting hismemberinside him; they didn't use any of the lubricants they'd seen other students use because they liked to feel everything. Harry groaned and leaned back in the chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Malfoy grunted incoherently and pulled at Harry's hair. "I told you not to close your eyes this time," he hissed. Harry nodded, eager for Malfoy to continue.

Malfoy wriggled from side to side in order to fit better around Harry, then began to move up and down, his leg muscles tensing and untensing more and more rapidly as both boys became more engrossed in what they were doing. Harry gasped and thrust his hips up to meet Malfoy's, and Malfoy inhaled sharply and gripped Harry's tie, his other hand clamping onto the chair arm even more tightly until his skin threatened to split over his knuckles. Malfoy managed to get Harry's tie undone with one hand and looped it around Harry's back, grabbing the other end with his other hand. He tugged on the tie, forcing Harry to press up closer to him, and began biting and licking at every bit of skin he could reach in his current position. Harry held on tightly to the chair arms, not realizing he was gasping outwords that didn't make sense.

Neither of them noticed when the chair broke. In fact, when they hit the floor, the pain drove them even more wild. Malfoy pinned Harry down to the floor on his back, bent and spread out his legs. Then he began to drive down onto Harry, hard enough to make their bones shake and their teeth clench. Harry reached out, trying to find something to hold onto. Finding nothing, he just pressed his hands and arms into the cold, stone floor until they ached; he needed some kind of anchor to keep him from floating off into a dream world he couldn't understand. He couldn't understand why Malfoy, of all people, could make him feel like this. Harry, realizing that he wasn't allowing himself to forget, bucked up into Malfoy.

Malfoy, seeming to understand, somehow managed to move harder, faster, until neither of them could even see straight. When Harry came, he heard himself scream out in a voice that didn't seem to be his own, and he slammed his head against the floor. He felt himself shoot into Malfoy, and all of his energy seemed to go along for the ride. Malfoy wouldn't let him rest, though; Harry had to keep up his part of the deal. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then sat up and wrapped his hand around Malfoy's erection. "Too tired to do anything else," he explained. He slid his hand up and down Malfoy's cock, not bothering to prolong the experience. When Malfoy came, Harry wiped his hand off on the floor and stood up, making his way over to his clothes.

"You owe me, Potter," Malfoy muttered, rising to his feet slowly, shakily.

"I know," Harry replied, not wanting to say anything more. If he did, he might thank him again, or tell him why he really didn't feel like staying in the conference room anymore; he had almost acknowledged the truth. In the middle of hard, driving sex, Harry had almost come face to face with the truth that he had been trying to escape from by coming to Malfoy in the first place. Before, he'd been able to dream, to lie to himself that Malfoy would always be an escape. The lies had been like shiny lights that could warm up the coldness he'd been feeling. But now the darkness was beginning to penetrate the light, and he didn't want to be with Malfoy when everything finally blacked out altogether; the deal was to help each other forget, not drag one another into each other's problems.

Fortunately, Malfoy didn't say anything at all, not even about the mistake Harry had made the night before. Because he didn't want to face the darkness either. It was funny how the one person who could understand him, what he was going through, was the person he hated most. Or at least he thought he hated him. It had to be hate, because if it was anything else, then the lights would haveto dim even more. It's why he had left so quickly the night before; he could see that Malfoy was beginning to see the truth, too. The way Malfoy had looked at him when he'd said thank you... eventually they'd have to end what they had before they ruined it. And Harry would love it, hate it at the same time. Would Malfoy? Probably. Maybe. What did Malfoy want?

"What..." Harry choked out before he could stop himself.

"Hm?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Nevermind." Harry reached out for his glasses, put them on, then exited the room as quickly as the portrait would permit. He didn't see the expression on Malfoy's face, which was a mixture of sorrow, concern, anger, and fear; the same expression Harry had seen the night before.

He left the room open, knowing Malfoy would take care of the portrait and the mess they'd made; Malfoy usually arrived first to check for anybody who might see, then stayed behind in order to make sure their secret would stay a secret. He was good at things like that.

When Harry reached Professor Binns' class, he looked through the window and decided he was too tired to deal with anymore lessons. He sighed and made his way to Gryffindor Tower, taking his time and not caring if Filch or Mrs. Norris came around the corner suddenly. It wasn'tlike detention would killhim or anything. If anything, detention gave Harry something to do other than fuck or be fucked by Malfoy. Not that Malfoy wouldn't come "visit" Harry while he was in detention if hewanted to.

By the time Harry crawled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, he was too weak to climb the stairs to his dorm. Instead, he trudged slowly over to the couch and flopped down on his back, already asleep before he hit the soft cushions.

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"Harry? It's time for dinner," Hermione said, shaking Harry. "Harry, get up. I brought your homework for you."

"Sorry, mate," Ron said into Harry's ear as if he were deaf, "I couldn't talk her out of it. I tried to explain to her that... hey, mate, are you okay? You look really worn out." Ron squinted his eyes and leaned even closer to Harry. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry sighed and pushed Ron's face out of the way, sitting up. "I'm fine. Just tired." Noticing the concerned expressions on his friends' faces, he rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. "Tests, guys. I've been studying like crazy for the past two weeks. I just needed to get some extra sleep, that's all."

Ron nodded, accepting his explanation immediately, but Hermione looked skeptical. "Okay..." she said, looking as if she were trying to analyze him.

Harry, not wanting to be analyzed, brushed past Hermione and Ron and crossed the room to the exit. "So, let's go, then," he said when his friends didn't follow him.

Hermione and Ron hurried across the room. Hermione continued to look at Harry as if she were trying to figure him out, and Ron was looking at Hermione with a confused expression on his face. Harry fought the urge to sigh again and left the common room. When Hermione immediately began to ask him how much he'd been eating, and how well he'd been sleeping, Harry wished he could leave himself the way Malfoy could. Sure, he could space out or daydream, but Malfoy seemed to be able to leave his body entirely and go off somewhere that couldn't be found in this world. And it made him jealous. But Malfoy made up for it. If Harry so much as sighed in a class when Malfoy was there, Malfoy would drag him into a closet and fuck him senseless. Like he had earlier that day.

"What's got you smiling like that?" Ron asked, grinning. He elbowed Harry in the ribs. Harry held back a gasp of pain; he was still sore from the session in the hidden conference room. "Something going on, mate?" Ron asked, whispering loudly. This time Harry didn't resist rolling his eyes. Ron thought he was seeing someone. Okay, so maybe, in a way, he was. Sort of. But he and Malfoy had agreed that if they wanted to see other people, then they could. No pressure or obligations. And Ron thought that Harry was seeing a girl. Harry was pretty sure Ron would admit him to St. Mungo's if he ever found out his best friend was not only having sex with other guys, he was having sex with Malfoy. Malfoy of all people. Because no one hated Draco Malfoy more than Ron Weasley. Period. So Harry shrugged, pretending to be embarrassed, and Ron nodded and winked conspiratorially.

The trio reached the Great Hall with Hermione leading the way, and they walked over to Gryffindor Table, each of them unusually silent, what with Hermione trying to fit pieces of the puzzle that was Harry together, Harry not wanting to talk to Ron about who he was seeing or to Hermione about what was supposed to be wrong with him, and Ron scanning the room, trying to figure out who Harry's girl was. Not that he'd find her, because it wasn't even a her.

Hermione sat down at the end of the table, and Ron immediately sat down next to her. Harry, wanting to be able to stare off into space in case dinner topics became too uncomfortable for his liking, sat down on the opposite side of the table. When Ron looked at him quizzically, Harry shrugged. "Want to be able to talk to both of you without having to lean over someone," he explained, pulling a roll apart. Ron nodded, then began talking to Hermione about some homework assignment they'd been given in Potions that day. It sounded boring, so Harry gazed out across the hall, seeing but not seeing.

Movement at Slytherin Table caught his eye, and he focused to see Malfoy signaling to him. Harry raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Malfoy jerked his head in the direction of the library. Harry dipped his head fractionally, indicating that he'd be there. Malfoy nodded in return, rose from the table, and exited the Great Hall. Harry waited five minutes, gave his friends a pathetic excuse (Ron assumed he was going to meet his "girl," so he told Hermione to let it go) and went to the library as fast as he possibly could; three hours of sleep was not enough to recover from mindblowing, bone-jarring sex.

Harry entered the library cautiously, and turned around and closed the door slowly so his eyes would have time to adjust to the darkness. Before he could turn around, arms planted themselves against the door on either side of him. "Took you long enough," Malfoy murmured, pressing his body up against Harry's.

Harry leaned back against Malfoy. "Want to get on with it, then?" he asked softly, reaching out and twining his fingers with Malfoy's.

Malfoy's response was to turn Harry around slowly, then press him up against the door. "Yeah. Fuck me. Now."

Harry nodded, then set to work taking off whatever clothing he could get a hold of; both his and Malfoy's. Then he guided Malfoy over to one of the tables, kissing him enthusiastically along the way. Harry pushed Malfoy on top of the table, then lifted the other boy's legs up over his shoulders. Malfoy threw out his arms to balance himself on the table. "We haven't done it on this table before," he commented, looking around.

Harry shrugged, not particularly interested. "Kind of funny, what with it being the closest one to the door and all." He looked down at his erection, then at Malfoy. Then he entered Malfoy, not bothering to reduce any pain he mighthave felt; Malfoy liked pain because it showed him he could still feel. Harry thrust into Malfoy experimentally, making him moan and toss his head back slightly. "Right, then," Harry said to himself, then began to crash into Malfoy just as hard as Malfoy had fucked him earlier that day.

Harry grimaced, thinking about how he'd almost broken down in the conference room. He had actually almost asked Malfoy what they were going to do about each other when school was over. And then he had seen Malfoy's face, and he hadn't been able to follow through with it. Malfoy didn't want to have anything to do with Harry when their time at Hogwarts was over. He'd probably go off and become a Death Eater, and then one day they'd find each other on opposing sides in the war. Would either of them be alive when it was over? Would one of them have to kill the other?

Malfoy groaned and came, bringing Harry back to reality. That is, Harry was brought back to the lie he had made his reality. Harry, relieved that it was over and he could finally get some rest, came into Malfoy, collapsing on top of him on the table, his feet still brushing the floor. And then Harry didn't want to leave the library; he was too tired to make the journey to his dorm.

Malfoy, seeming to understand, didn't tell Harry to move until several minutes had gone by. "Potter," he whispered eventually, "we're going to break the table if we don't get off of it soon."

Harry grunted and sank to the floor, sprawling out tiredly underneath the table. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed, stretching out on the floor next to him. If Harry hadn't already been more than half-asleep, he would have noticed that Malfoy wasn't actually annoyed with him; he was holding back a smile. And then he was completely asleep, and he didn't give a damn who found him lying there.

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And that's chapter two. Is anybody else really, really tired? Daylight saving's time has done a number on me again. Damnit, I hate it when this happens!


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Hello again, everyone! I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far. Without your efforts to let me know what you think, I'd feel like I shouldn't bother to update the story. So, here's chapter three! Um, yeah. Chapter three...

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Chapter Three

"If you find your family, don't you cry

In this land of make believe, dead and dry"

"So Cold," Breaking Benjamin

Draco would never admit it becausehe couldn't, but he enjoyed watching Potter sleep. It was the only time that Potter was vulnerable. When he was sleeping, Potter was an open book. Draco reached out and ran his hand slowly through Potter's tousled hair, watching his face intently. Potter's innocence showed in his relaxed position, his breathing deep and even.

Draco moved closer to Potter, stroking his raven hair rhythmically. Potter's lips parted as he leaned minutely into the touch. Draco nodded as if Potter had given him a command and continued what he was doing, occasionally letting his fingertips brush the nape of Potter's neck. Draco frowned slightly, wondering what he looked like when he slept. He couldn't ask Potter; he made sure he always stayed awake.

Potter shifted in his sleep, moving so he was lying on his back, his glasses reflecting the dim light from one of the small library windows. Draco scowled, reaching out and removing Potter's glasses. They annoyed him; they hid Potter's eyes. Sure, you could still see his eyes through them, but you couldn't really _see _them. Potter's glasses stole away the brilliance of the unbelievable color of his eyes, partially masked his emotions. Every time Draco took off Potter's glasses, Potter would complain and eventually put them back on, despite the fact that there were plenty of spells that would fix his lack of vision.

And why did Draco care about Potter's eyes? He didn't really know. Maybe it was the innocence that radiated from deep inside them. Maybe it was the spark that ignited in them when Potter was angry. Draco liked to make Potter angry. Because when Potter was angry, Potter was real. Which was probably why Draco had always antagonized him; he wanted to show the world the real Golden Boy. He wanted to show the Golden Boy the real Golden Boy.

Golden Boy. The name made Draco shiver. One day, Draco would have to face, if only indirectly, the Golden Boy. The Boy Who Lived. And when the time came, would he still be the Boy Who Lived? Voldemort and the Death Eaters were getting restless, Draco knew that much. Who would support Potter on the battlefield? Dumbledore? The Weasel? The Mudblood? They'd been there for him before, but when the real war came, would they continue to be strong, or would they run away? Draco knew that the odds of the Death Eaters remaining loyal to the Dark Lord if Potter got the upper hand were slim to none. Draco didn't even know which side he would fight for. Which was pathetic, since the war was so close he could almost taste it. People were already starting to evacuate, moving to Ireland, Germany, Spain, Sweden, even the United States. So they'd cheer for the Boy Who Lived, but they wouldn't fight for him. Typical. Who were the people that started and praised wars, anyway? The people that wouldn't have to be a part of that war directly, of course.

Draco realized he'd been clenching his teeth and forced his jaw to relax. He wasn't really sure how he felt about Potter's living or dying in a war against his father's master. Master. Lucius Malfoy was just as much a slave as their house elves. When the war was over, if Voldemort died, Draco's father would be lost. He'd probably try to keep his master's crazy dream alive, and get killed in the process. But what if Voldemort won? Would he kill Potter, or make him some kind of slave? Draco stopped moving his fingers through Potter's hair. Potter would never accept being a slave. He was too opinionated, too free. Then again, he'd been a slave to the wizarding world, to himself, for years. Draco reached out and took Potter's hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Potter was cold tonight. He was probably in the middle of some particularly terrible nightmare. What about? The war? The lie? The truth? His parents?

His parents. If Voldemort had killed Draco's parents, Draco didn't think he would have reacted too strongly. He would have felt loss, but not the heartwrenching kind that people said they felt when they lost a loved one. He would have just felt alone. Draco knew Potter ached for his parents, and he didn't even really know anything about them, other than what he was told. And were they being honest when they told him about them? Or were they glorifying them as heroes for defying Voldemort? People tended to do things like that without knowing it. Draco tried to keep his opinion of someone as realistic as possible, but he occasionally found himself exaggerating. A small tear formed at the corner of Potter's eye, and then Draco knew that he was dreaming about his parents. Draco wiped the tear away, feeling the anger burn inside him at its presence. If Potter was crying, then that meant he was closer to the truth. Draco didn't want the lie to end, but he knew that it was dying, and fast.

Draco's grip on Potter's hand tightened. Potter was like a living oxymoron tonight; his skin was cold, but his features were calm, his breathing was deep and even. Draco realized he'd have to start pulling away soon, bracing himself for the end. He'd be there until the end came, too. He had to keep Potter's lie alive as long as possible.

And what would happen when it ended? Potter would be the one to decide; if he wasn't, then he'd never leave Draco. Potter had to be certain about the end of what they had. If Draco pushed Potter away, then Potter's pride would convince him that he still wanted more. So Draco would wait for Potter to leave him, and he'd see if Potter would really try to make himself out as the victim. But in the meantime, Potter allowed himself to believe in the lie, gratified and devoid of real happiness at the same time.

But did Draco honestly want it to end? At the end of the day, after he and Potter had sex, Draco felt complete. No, not complete. But the void inside him felt less bottomless. And then the impossible dreams of having something with Potter after they left Hogwarts lit up again in the back of his mind. Draco shook his head, clearing them away. If he ever suggested continuing what they had, Potter would be more convinced that it should end. It was just Potter's way. So Draco would do what he'd known he'd have to do since day one of their arrangent; allow Potter to play the part of the victimized Gryffindor and push him away. It was okay, Draco could live with it. Everybody he knew pushed him away.

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A/N: Did you think this chapter was kind of choppy? You know, like it didn't quite blend together? I tried to make it run more smoothly, but I thought something just missed the mark or something. Let me know what you think (please).


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: And this is chapter four. Thank you again reviewers! Fortunately, this one wasn't quite as hard to write as chapter three. Which is a good thing, because when I can't find the rhythm you can feel in a goodor at least moderately enjoyablestory, I tend to put it off until it comes back again. Okay, so, here's chapter four. Oh yeah, and to make up for how I portray Ron in my other story, I'm going to make him more tolerable in this one. And Hermione won't be so tolerable. And Lavender is obviously unbelievably shallow, because you need a shallow character. You need a bitch, too. No worries, Pansy will be coming soon.

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Chapter Four

"Help me, I'm out of breath again

Nobody knows somewhere to make it go away"

"Phase," Breaking Benjamin

"Potter."

A voice broke into Harry's dreams, making his parents' faces disappear. He gave a murmur of both relief and protest, opening his eyes slowly. Malfoy was leaning over him, his icy gray eyes masking an emotion that Harry couldn't quite decipher. Either that or he knew exactly what it was, but he didn't want to accept that Malfoy could feel that way. He'd been seeing it a lot lately. "What time is it?" Harry asked, sitting up, reaching up to adjust his glasses. It was then that he realized they weren't on his face. "Where are my glasses?" he asked. No wonder everything had been so blurry and unfocused before.

Malfoy reached behind him and gave Harry his glasses. "You were going to bend the frames, so I took them off," he explained, avoiding Harry's eyes. He moved out from under the table and rose to his feet.

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, looking up at Malfoy intently. Why was Malfoy so... he was different.

"Don't mention it," Malfoy replied, straightening his shirt. "It's almost three o'clock," he added when Harry continued to sit on the floor.

Harry moved out from under the table slowly, then began to dress leisurely, occasionally glancing at Malfoy, trying to figure out what, exactly, was different about him. Malfoy was pointedly avoiding conversation and eye contact. It wasn't like they'd had intriguing discussions before; they were either too busy fighting, fucking, or trying to catch their breaths. But it was as if Malfoy was deliberately pulling away from Harry to such an extent that it was almost comical in a twisted way. "You didn't miss anything important today in Charms, did you?" Harry asked, kneeling down on the floor to tie his shoes.

"What's it to you?" Malfoy asked.

"Just wondering," Harry replied, rising to his feet. "Don't want you complaining about missing something important or anything like that." They both stood silently in the library for a few more seconds. "Well, see you around, then," Harry said awkardly.

"Yeah," Malfoy said quietly, then added, "obviously."

Both boys nodded at each other, then left the room one after the other, each splitting up to go to their dorms.

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When Harry woke up late, he was, to say the least, tired. He more or less rolled off the bed, landing on the floor on his hands and knees. And he didn't have the energy to rise to his feet. And he found he didn't really want to. He didn't even know what day it was, let alone what classes he had. How late was it? Had he missed any classes?

"Harry, mate, you're going to miss breakfast," Ron called loudly as he burst into the room.

Nope. Damn. "I'm not really that hungry today, anyway," Harry grumbled, still hunched over on the floor

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Ron approached Harry cautiously as ifhe had the plague or something.

"No, just... er... finding my shoes."

"They're over here." Ron kicked one of Harry's shoes over to him, his eyebrow raised. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Fine. I'll be down soon." Harry couldn't keep the snappishness out of his tone.

"Okay. See you then." Ron turned and exited the room. Harry could hear him muttering something along the lines of, "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Harry shook his head and sighed. Was he really all right? It was getting harder and harder to resist telling Ron and Hermione exactly how he was feeling. Okay, well, not exactly, because he wasn't even sure what was going on himself. "I need help," he muttered, searching for clothes that were reasonably clean. Not that anyone would really care about what he was wearing; he was the fucking Golden Boy after all. Finding something that didn't look like he'd slept in it, which was hard to do since he'd been falling asleep in his clothes a lot lately, he trudged down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Hermione asked as soon as he sat down.

"And good morning to you, too, Hermione," Harry replied calmly, reaching out for whatever was nearest to him.

"You didn't answer my question," Hermione persisted.

"Because Ron probably filled you in on everything already." At this, Ron blushed and looked down at the table.

Hermione frowned. "You've been different lately."

"Maybe I was just different before. Maybe this is the real me," Harry said over a mouthful of food.

"Well, if this is the real you, then I don't like the real you," Hermione shot back, folding her arms against her chest.

"That's too bad," Harry mumbled under his breath.

Both Ron and Hermione leaned forward. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"I said, 'I'm just tired,'" Harry lied.

"Right then," Hermione's tone was doubtful. "I just don't like to see you unhappy."

Nobody did. They didn't want Harry to back out of his destiny. "Thanks," Harry said in a tone that wasn't very gracious. "Let's go. Classes are about to start." He left the table and exited the Great Hall quickly, praying that nobody would ask anymore questions. He'd messed up enough things by asking questions the past couple of nights.

Why had he felt the need to talk to Malfoy the night before? Malfoy's reaction had been one that Harry didn't really like seeing at all. The light had seemed to leave Malfoy's eyes. It wasn't really a light, exactly. It was more like a special kind of life. The potential for life. Malfoy's eyes were like two blocks of ice that could thaw out someday and reveal what was living behind them. And last night, Harry hadn't been able to see that potential. Malfoy's eyes had just been a dull gray.

But why should that bother him? If Malfoy was running away, ending the deal, why should he care? There was no reason. But he cared anyway. It would have helped if he knew why. And he couldn't ask Malfoy or he'd run away for sure. The world was just way too messed up. The only thing that had made any kind of sense had been letting Malfoy help him forget, and helping Malfoy forget as well. And then he'd gone and fucked that up by asking Malfoy stupid questions. Damnit.

And then Harry realized why the look in Malfoy's eyes had scared him so much. Their deal was to be on call to help each other forget. They were both going through... what were they going through? All Harry knew was that before Malfoy had presented him withthe arrangement, he had barely been able to breathe. He had been slowly suffocating.Was that why Malfoy had come to him? He didn't really know what Malfoy needed to forget. Which was part of the deal. How could you help someone forget something by bringing it up all the time? Harry knew he'd wanted to slap Hermione a few times when she'd asked him questions, when she'd made wild assumptions and accusations. What did she think she was anyway? A psychiatrist? A lousy one. And Ron. Ron was just clumsy. Harry wasn't as annoyed with Ron as he was with Hermione. Ron only asked to let Harry know that he was there for him. He never pushed the issue if Harry told him to back off. So Harry wouldn't ask Malfoy about his problems. Maybe he was just being selfish. Well, the deal was selfish, too, but it was a different kind of selfish. The deal was a necessary kind of selfish. Like when you had to go off by yourself in order to think or something like that. Except he wasn't exactly going off to be by himself. Whatever. The point was he needed the deal, but he didn't need to know why Malfoy needed the deal. Or did he? The look in Malfoy's eyes had scared him because it seemed like Malfoy was pulling away from him. But not just that. The way that Malfoy looked the night before... seemed to illustrate how Harry felt. Like Harry's potential for life, the real kind of living, had been drained. Was it back again?

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"Harry, the dungeons are this way." At least Ron had the consideration to whisper it into Harry's ear rather than shout it out so Hermione would pounce on the issue and figuratively, and perhaps literally, back Harry into a corner. Harry shot Ron a half-smile of thanks, and Ron shrugged in a "what else am I here for?" kind of way.

Too bad Harry had Potions; no time to space out. And he could forget about getting out of class. Unless he was dying, he wouldn't be able to leave Potions. And even Snape's letting a student go because of some fatal circumstance was questionable. Someone could accidentally Kedavra someone else and Snape would most likely order everyone back to their seats. Then again, if someone was already dead, what could you do?

Harry sat down next to Ron in Potions, not wanting to put up with Hermione's questioning anymore. People probably thought she was just concerned about him, but she was really just nosy. And bossy.

Malfoy walked into the classroom, and he and Harry looked at each other intently before averting their gazes quickly. Ron had seen the exchange. "You're not going to start a fight or anything, are you?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head. "Oh. Well, if you are, just give me a heads up, okay?" Harry nodded, repressing an eye roll. From the look of things, Crabbe and Goyle were saying, or rather they were acting out, the same thing. Crabbe and Goyle. Could you have names that were any more lackey-sounding? Harry didn't have lackeys. He had overly "supportive" peers who did what they claimed they thought was best for you. Well, at the end of the day, he could talk to someone if he wanted to, and get a reaction, not just a vacant stare.

"It's Friday," Lavender Brown whispered loudly behind them. "Just in time, too. It's been a long week."

"Oh, I know," Parvati Patil said, nodding enthusiastically in agreement. Parvati and Lavender's other friends weren't lackeys. They were sheep. And Lavender was the queen of all sheep. And Lavender was currently eyeing Harry like he was some kind of new item that was "all the rage" that she absolutely "had to have, or she'd die." Joy to the world, halle-bloody-lujah. If she thought Harry was going to even go out on a lousy date with her, then she had another thing coming. Not really realizing what he was doing, Harry glanced across the room at Malfoy. Then looked away before anyone noticed. Good, Lavender and her flock were too busy looking at him to really pay attention to what he was doing. One of them was drooling. Scary. Harry shuddered and stared straight ahead at Snape's desk. He was actually silently urging Snape to get up and make his life a living hell. Harry felt a presence close by, so he turned around slightly, slowly, and noticed that Lavender was leaning over, trying to make her breasts look bigger by pressing her arms close to her sides. Before he could turn away, Lavender smiled in a way she probably thought was seductive and flirtatious, and asked, "Do you like my new perfume, Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

Lavender's sheep giggled, and he heard one of them say, "How cute is that?"

"Here," Lavender somehow managed to lean even closer to Harry, her face inches away from his, without falling over the table. "Can you smell it now?"

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, trying with all his might not to cough. What, had she bathed in it? Lavender winked, then returned to her seat.

Ron leaned over so he could whisper into Harry's ear. "I think she used the whole damn bottle."

Harry nodded, grinning slightly. "It's a good thing you like it so much," he murmured, "because by morning tomorrow, at the latest, every single girl that worships her is going to be wearing the same damn stuff."

Ron gagged. "Oh shit, you're right. I'm praying for a stuffed up nose tonight." He caught a whiff of Lavender's perfume and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "A really stuffed up nose."

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"Oh, perfect," Harry cursed under his breath, looking at the mess he'd made on the floor. He bent down and started picking up everything he'd dropped in his hurry to get out of Potions. When his friends began to help, he motioned for them to stop. "No, go ahead. I'll catch up."

Ron, being the non-pushy kind of guy he was, nodded and grabbed Hermione's arm before she could say anything. "Hurry up, mate. Not that Professor Sprout will really care or anything." He left the classroom, practically forcing Hermione to go with him.

"I suggest you hurry, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, sitting down in the chair behind his desk.

Harry nodded, then hurried out of the room. And of course he ran smack into Malfoy.

"Oh, good," Malfoy said, regaining his balance and straightening his robes. "How about the supply closet? I know it's a major cliche and all..."

"Not a good time right now," Harry interrupted, adjusting his glasses.

"What?" Malfoy asked, disbelief in his tone.

"Later, okay? I'm tired, I'm behind in nearly all of my classes, my friends won't shut up... we'll meet up later. Promise. Bye." Harry more or less sprinted down the hall. And now Malfoy would probably be pissed off. And not the good kind of pissed off that allowed them to have angry sex. No, he'd be so pissed off they wouldn't be having any sex at all. At least not today. Great, instead of asking questions, Harry'd just made Malfoy feel desperate or something. And you just didn't do that to a Malfoy. That is, if you wanted to be fucked by one. It should have been one of the Commandments; thou shalt not piss off a Malfoy and hope to have sex. Then again, what did God know about sex? Well, he did knock up the Virgin Mary. And then Jesus had come and spoken the damned Truth. Fuck him. Fuck Mary. Fuck God.

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"Um, Harry? Are you okay?" Neville asked, appearing out of nowhere.

"Fine," Harry barked. When Neville jumped, Harry mentally smacked himself. "Just thinking, Nev. Sorry."

Neville gulped. "O-okay. What were you thinking... nevermind."

Harry was so convinced that Malfoy wouldn't even be looking at him for the next couple of days or so that he choked on his pumpkin juice and nearly fell out of his seat in the Great Hall whenthe white-blondemotioned for him to meet him as soon as dinner was over. Then again, when had Malfoy ever really been predictable? Harry had thought he had Malfoy figured out by the time sixth year was over, and then he'd come up and more or less said, "Let's have sex. And lots of it." Malfoy finished eating, stood up, yawned and stretched, and made sure his hand was pointing in the direction of the secret room they'd found while they were... well, Malfoy often got enthusiastic and slammed Harry up against stuff when they were caught up in the heat of the moment.

Harry nodded, forcing himself to remain seated and calmly sip at what was left of his pumpkin juice; when he'd choked on it, he'd more or less sloshed most of what was in the cup all over everyone around him. One of those people had been, surprise, Lavender, and she'd gone on about how she couldn't believe he'd done such a thing to her brand new skirt, but it was okay because she knew he hadn't meant to, and she shouldn't have been so stupid as to wear something as expensive as that to dinner in the first place. After at least ten minutes had crept by, Harry exited the Great Hall, telling Ron he was going to talk to one of the professors about a homework assignment. He made sure not to tell specifically which professor he was going to see; Hermione would probably try to find him. But if she didn't, she'd probably ask him about it later. So he'd actually go and see someone after he saw Malfoy. Now that he thought about it, Harry found it amazing that nobody had found out about what hehehad beendoing with his time yet.

Harry approached one of the suits of armor that lined the hallways, checked to see if anyone was around, then pulled down on the ax that the suit was holding. The wall of stone to the left of the armor opened up like the bricks at the entrance to Diagon Alley, revealing a small room that had probably once been used as some kind of hideout for when the castle was under attack or something like that. Not that you'd be able to fit any more than fifteen people or so. And even then that would be rather uncomfortable.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall, his arms folded against his chest. "Took you a long time."

"Well, you didn't want me following on your heels, did you?" Harry asked. Usually, Malfoy was annoyed with Harry when he waited any less than fifteen minutes. He'd waited five the night before, and that was cutting it pretty close. But he'd taken forever to get to the library, so...

"Oh, just don't start." Malfoy pushed away from the wall, his arms still crossed. They were both silent for awhile. Malfoy stared down at the stone floor, and Harry looked at everything except Malfoy. Suddenly, Malfoy asked, "Are you okay?"

"What?" Harry half-asked, half-yelped.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy repeated slowly.

"Umphrn," Harry replied intelligently. Yep. Brilliant.

"You're fine? Yeah, right. Cut the crap, Potter." Malfoy let his arms fall to his sides and moved closer to Harry. "What's wrong?"

Harry backed away, his expression a combination of "what the hell is this?" in a puzzled way, "what the hell is this?" in a startled way, and "what the hell is this?" in a defensive way. "Huh?"

"You're more fucked up in the head than usual. Something's bothering you."

"What makes you think that?" Harry found he'd backed up against the wall. Funny how he'd thought Hermione would be the one to do this to him, and instead it was Malfoy. Then again, he'd thought he would be fucking someone other than Malfoy as well.

Malfoy continued to move closer to him. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, people have been noticing things for awhile now. However, the big give away was your not wanting to have sex. And your excuses were pathetic. Since when has being behind in your classes ever stopped you before?"

"And why the hell do you care?" Harry snapped. It wasn't that he was angry about being cornered yet again. Okay, so maybe it was, but just a little bit. It was more that Malfoy was asking him. Why the hell would Malfoy even care? And Malfoy thought _he _was the one fucked up in the head. Okay, so he was. But so was Malfoy.

And of course, Harry had said the wrong thing yet again, because Malfoy stepped back, both physically and mentally withdrawing from the subject. "Nevermind. Your insanity is rubbing off on me."

"My insanity," Harry said slowly in a low monotone. "Right." He turned around and left the room, not bothering to look back at Malfoy. If Malfoy wanted to bring up Harry's issues, then he had better damn well be able to talk about his own as well.

0000

Harry stormed into the common room, a scowl planted on his face. Several first years cowered in a corner as if he were Voldemort. Okay, maybe not Voldemort, but they were pretty scared just the same. "Fuck you, Malfoy," he cursed under his breath, clenching his fists tightly. He stood still in front of the fireplace, watching the flames leap and dance to some rhythm only they could follow.

So Malfoy wanted to be an ass. Fine. Harry could live with that. After all, he'd had to since day one of Hogwarts. Before that, if he thought about that day in the robes shop. Damn him. Well, ifhe was going to be such a prick, thenhe wasn't going to have any kind of sex with him. What, did that mean he'd have to wait until Malfoy came around? No, the deal said clearly enough that they could see other people. No pressure. Harry wasn't going to deprive himself. Someone from Hufflepuff was out of the question; even if he managed to somehow convince one of them to have sex with him, they'd want some kind of relationship afterward. Slytherin was a last resort; Blaise Zabini wasn't that bad, but he was in the same room as Malfoy. Not that he cared. Ravenclaw was a maybe; you just never knew with them. And, of course, he couldn't just grab someone from Gryffindor and start fucking them. Unless they were drunk. But if just started pouring alcohol down somebody's throat, they might get suspicious. Or freaked out. Harry sighed. He wouldn't be having sex until after the weekend at least. Then again, it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Maybe he could ask someone in Gryffindor out on a date, fill them up with butterbeer, then bring them back to the dorms and have at it. But it would have to be a girl; he couldn't risk hitting on a guy and scaring him out of his wits.

Was he really even considering this? Was he honestly thinking about having a one night stand with a girl from his own house? Yes, he was. And was he going to do it? Abso-fucking-lutely.

0000

Harry tapped on the door to the seventh year girls' dorm tentatively, praying Hermione didn't answer the door. That Hermione wasn't even there at all. He wanted to both sigh with relief and run away screaming when Lavender answered the door. "Hey, Harry," she beamed, leaning against the door casually.

"Um, hi," Harry said awkwardly, scratching his head. Spend one year fucking a guy and you forget how to talk to a girl. Not that he ever knew how to in the first place. But his chances of finding out had flown out the window when Malfoy had first pulled him into Snape's supply closet. He had to stop thinking about Malfoy. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"No, no. Um, do you want to come in or something?" Lavender stepped away from the doorway invitingly.

"Sure." Just get it over with already.

"Did you come to talk to Hermione?" Lavender sat down on the third bed away from the door.

"No," Harry replied, studying the room. It was different from the boys' dorm in the sense that it was, for the most part, tidier, and decorated with girlish stuff. And there was makeup. Well, okay, Seamus had used eyeliner that one time, but ithad beenHalloween. Then you had to wonder why he had had it in the first place. Maybe Harry could have asked Seamus... no, too late to back down now.

"What did you want then?" Lavender asked, crossing her legs and twirling her hair around her index finger.

As if she didn't know. "Well, I actually came to ask you something," Harry said, making sure he sounded shy. If he sounded like he knew what he was doing, then Lavender wouldn't trust him at all. Probably.

Lavender laughed in a way she most likely thought was grown up and sophisticated. "What did you want to ask me, Harry?"

Just ask. It won't kill you. "I was wondering if you'd like to... um... that is..."

"Yes?" Lavender was leaning forward now, trying to hide the anxious look on her face. Unsuccessfully, obviously, if Harry could tell she was trying to hide it.

Just do it. Do it. Ask her, damnit! "Do you want to go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Harry asked, immediately wishing he'd just turned around and fled.

"Oh, Harry, I'd love to!" Lavender squealed, leaping up from the bed and hugging him. Then she remembered she was supposed to be sophisticated. She let go of Harry, who had temporarily been unable to breathe due to Lavender's squeezing him like a damned boa constrictor, and adjusted his glasses, then his sweater. "Meet me in the common room at eight, then we'll walk down to the Great Hall and eat breakfast together. Oh, Harry, we're going to have so much fun tomorrow! We'll hit all the shops, and we'll definitely have to get you some new clothes because that ensemble is great and all, but..."

Harry forced Lavender's squeaky, perky voice out of his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into? What kind of sex was worth this?

0000

Harry left the girls' dorm an hour later, feeling dazed and scared out of his wits. Hogsmeade with Lavender equaled a slow, painful death. And what if he couldn't get her to have sex with him? He'd have nothing. Nothing but plans with her up until he was twenty-five.Or older.Seriously. You asked the girl to go to Hogsmeade with you and she instantly started planning your future. With her. Well, he'd wait until tomorrow and see if he'd get any, and if he realized he wouldn't, he'd dump her. Sure, she'd hate him. But that was better than being stuck with a girl that believed she was already married to him. Gah. Harry shivered and jumped around, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind of all things Lavender.

Of course Ron had to see him. "Harry?"

"Um... just trying to relax," Harry coughed. Yeah, like he could. He hadn't had sex since the day before and now he was going out with a crazy bitch.

"Oh, right. Were you up there?" Ron pointed at the girls' dorm. For some reason, the other guys in Harry's dorm thought that whoever went "up there" was a god.

"Yeah," Harry replied, wishing with all his might he could go back in time and undo everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. Okay, days. None of this would have happened if he hadn't started asking questions. Right?

"What for?" Ron asked. He looked like he was going to burst if he didn't get any details about what was "up there."

Merlin. "I asked Lavender if she'd go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Harry muttered, not looking at Ron.

"You what? Why?" Ron had gone pale. "That is, er... I'm sure you two'll have a good time."

Yeah. Right. "Sure we will." Why did he suddenly feel like crying?

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"Want me to be there with you?"

"Hell, yes. That is, until I tell you to leave."

"Tell me to leave? Why would you... oh. Right. Okay, so we need some kind of signal then, right?"

"Yeah. Sure." Signal?

"Just go like this." Ron ran his hand through his hair in an absurd way.

"How about I just cough or something?"

"Isn't that too obvious?"

"Oh, for the love of... look, I don't know what the 'signal' is going to be, but you'll damn well know what it is when I give it to you."

"Whoa, no need to get snappish. Then again, you did just get yourself stuck with Lavender Brown. Has she planned the wedding yet? Picked out your house? Decided how many kids you're going to have?"

"Shut up!" Harry clamped his hands over his ears. "Please, if there's any humanity in you whatsoever you will not mention anything about this anymore."

Ron laughed. "Okay. I won't. Promise."

"Good. I'm going to bed early."

Harry more or less crawled into bed, feeling just as drained as he had that morning. If there was anything that resembled a god out there, nobody else, especially a certain blonde-haired Slytherin, would find out about this.

Apparently there wasn't a god, or he was out on holiday, because within a half an hour the entire student population knew. Including the certain blonde-haired Slytherin, and he was not happy, to say the least.

A/N: Sort of like a cliffhanger right there, huh? If you noticed, I made this chapter longer than all of the previous chapters to make up for the extreme shortness of the last one. Next chapter will include: a frightened Crabbe, a terrified Goyle, an amused and confused (semi-rhyme right there...) Blaise, and a jealous Draco. And there might be some damaged property. You know, like furniture or something like that. Oh yeah, and I've decided to eventually try a crossover. I know lots of people are bored with the Hermione/Ron thing, so I'm going to bring in Willow Rosenburg from "Buffy The Vampire Slayer," and she'll be with Ron (this Willow is, of course, the Willow we knew before she met Tara. Or Kennedy... ahem. Just think Oz. But don't. Because Willow's not with Oz anymore. She's with Ron. Soon). Farewell for now! And review! Please?


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: Hello everyone! And it's chapter five. Here. Now. Thank you reviewers! Especially the reviewers that review frequently; lot of effort to review, you know? I admit that I'll sometimes read a really good story (or a really bad one), and instead of encouraging the author and saying how great the fic is (or flaming the author and telling them to work on the story before they kill it), I just kind of think, "I'll do it later." You know? This chapter isn't as long as chapter four, but it's also not as short as chaw slightly more than half empty, and Draco was, in his opinion, not only thinking more clearly than he had ever thought before in his life, but he was also completely over that damned bastard. Draco muttered incoherently and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Sniffling, he took another sip of whiskey. "Why is he doing this?" he asked, whirling around precariously to face one of the three Blaise Zabinis sitting by the fireplace. "Why?"

"Who?" Blaise asked, curious. He knew Draco had been shagging someone since theE2��s doing?" he asked no one in particular, pausing to take a gulp from the bottle of whiskey he was holding. The bottle was now slightly more than half empty, and Draco was, in his opinion, not only thinking more clearly than he had ever thought before in his life, but he was also completely over that damned bastard. Draco muttered incoherently and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Sniffling, he took another sip of whiskey. "Why is he doing this?" he asked, whirling around precariously to face one of the three Blaise Zabinis sitting by the fireplace. "Why?"

"Who?" Blaise asked, curious. He knew Draco had been shagging someone since the winter formal, at least, but he hadn't been able to find out who. Well, it wasn't a she, that was for sure.

Draco squinted at him for a few seconds, then he snorted noisily. "Exactly," he mumbled, taking another long swig from the bottle.

"You going to let me have some of that?" Blaise asked. "I mean, I _did_ buy it and all..."

"No." Draco tipped his head back and chugged the remainder of the whiskey.

"All right, then," Blaise said quietly, his lips twisted upward in a half-smile. Draco had never been this messed up before. Actually, he'd never been messed up at all. Draco Malfoy was always the one who was in control of relationships. And now it lookedlike the other guy had gotten the upper hand this time.

"I hate that... that... agh!" Draco pulled out his wand as quickly as he could manage and pointed it at one of the pillows on the sofa, blasting it to bits.

"I liked that pillow," Blaise protested mildly.

"Shut up, you," Draco growled, pointing his wand at one of the three Blaises. He repeated the same spell that had destroyed the pillow. Fortunately, he hit the wrong Blaise.

"This is the last time I get you any alcohol stronger than... okay, okay, I'm sorry." Blaise held up his hands and rose out of the leather armchair he'd been sitting in.

"Do you have any more?" Draco asked, noticing the lack of whiskey in the bottle he was holding.

"No... okay, wait!" Blaise dodged another harmful spell. "I have vodka! But that's it!"

"You've got exactly thirty seconds to get it and bring it down here," Draco stated, crossing his arms and turning away. "And don't think I won't be counting. Or that I won't come for you."

Blaise was already gone.

How could Potter leave him like that? First Potter had denied him sex, then he'd walked out on him in the room by the rusty old suit of armor. Then he'd asked fucking Lavender Brown, the stupidest bitch, period, out on a date, and they were definitely going to be having sex by tomorrow at the latest. What the hell was Potter playing at? Was this some kind of statement? What... was Potter trying to show Draco that he didn't need him? Well, Draco didn't need Potter, either. Son of a fucking bitch. "Where the hell's that vodka?" Draco roared.

"I haven't even been gone ten seconds yet!" Blaise shouted in reply.

Draco crossed his arms and sat down on an ottoman... and missed. He fell on his back, sprawling out on the expensive rug that covered the stone floor. He closed his eyes, letting the light from the fireplace play against the darkness of his eyelids. And saw Potter's face. Draco moaned and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him? It had to be the alcohol. Fine then, Blaise could keep his damn vodka.

Rubbing at his eyes, Draco rolled over so he could gaze into the fire. There was something hypnotizing about a fire. It was bright, alive, dancing. It drew you to it, making you feel open and vulnerable. And then Draco didn't want to look at the fire anymore; a Malfoy was never supposed to be vulnerable. Vulnerability meant weakness. And Draco was not weak. He couldn't be. If he ever allowed himself to be weak, he'd be crushed. He'd learned that early on in life.

Draco sat up and rose to his feet slowly, feeling dizzy. He rubbed at his temples, frowning. He needed to find some perspective again. But he couldn't do that in the dungeons; too closed, too cold. Not cold in the sense that it made you shiver, but cold in the sense that it seemed to drain you of life. The dungeons made you feel cold emotionally, not physically. "Blaise, forget about the vodka!" Draco shouted. "I'm leaving for a bit. Cover for me if somebody asks where I am."

Draco's favorite place to be alone was on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. It was the highest point of the school, towering over all of the Hogwarts grounds and beyond. It made Draco feel like the king of the world while making him feel as insignificant as a house elf; alone, but connected to everything and everyone. Getting up to the roof was a bit of a problem on this particular night, however, since Draco had to cling to the wall in order to prevent himself from falling down the stairs. But it was all worth the long, dizzying climb when he reached his destination. He made his way to the edge, making sure he didn't come too close; he was drunk, so he didn't trust his senses or his balance just then.

The night was beautiful. The moon wasn't full, but it was large enough to touch everything with its silvery-white light, and small enough to allow the stars to shine brightly. And there were so many stars, looking like twinkling diamonds against deep purplish-blue velvet. Draco looked up high into the sky, then fell backward onto the hard stone of the roof. "Ow!" he muttered, pushing himself up to sit upright.

After the world stopped spinning, Draco was able to focus on the stars again, their numbers increased due to the ridiculous amount of alcohol he had consumed. A soft breeze rushed past him, blowinghis hair away from his face. He shivered, but not so much from cold as from enjoyment. He'd miss this place when school was over. The view was magical. It was nature's magic. And the only other person that knew he came to this place was Potter.

Draco grimaced, remembering his encounter with Potter on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. It had been late, very late. The moon had already disappeared, and the stars were just beginning to fade away. Draco had been sitting at the edge of the roof, his legs dangling out in the air, when he'd noticed a sillouhette fly across the sky, high above the Quidditch pitch. He'd watched the figure for awhile, which seemed as hypnotizing as a fire, when, suddenly, it began to fly toward him. Draco had panicked; the roof was his spot, after all. And then he'd realized it was Potter. They hadn't fought on the roof as much as they would have in the days before the deal, and the situation had ended in angry sex. And then Potter had promised he'd never come to the Astronomy Tower again unless Draco asked him to. Before Draco had even threatened him. Potter had said he understood the need to be alone; that was the reason he'd been out flying so late. It turned out both Draco and Potter enjoyed the night life. Not the crazy, hectic lifestyle that people enjoyed out in the city. They liked the real night; the beautiful world of silence.

Potter. He was thinking about Potter again. Draco groaned and buried his head into his knees, pulling at his hair. What had possessed him todrink an entire bottle of whiskey in such a short amount of time? It only made him insane. Then again, he'd already been acting more or less insane lately. Asking Potter about his problems. Draco had set the terms of the deal, one of them being no personal questions, and he had gone and asked Potter what the hell was wrong. Like he didn't already know.

But Potter had touched insanity as well. He'd come pretty damn close to asking questions, too. And each time, Draco had had to forget about it, forcing himself to shove it out of his mind so he could believe that nothing was wrong. Things were still the same between them, damnit. And he knew that was a lie, because he suddenly felt like crying. Something that a Malfoy just didn't do. A Malfoy had to smile and bear the pain, even if it was killing him. He knew that Potter didn't care about not crying; he'd watched Potter cry plenty of times in his sleep. Never when he was awake, though. Maybe Potter did have a problem with crying. Nobody other than Draco seemed to know that the Golden Boy was not doing just fine. Sure, his friends would look concerned sometimes and ask the occasional question, but, ultimately, they'd just back off. Couldn't accept the truth. But Draco hadn't been able to, either. He'd retreated from the subject as well. And then Potter had left him. Then he'd asked that slut to... a sound that was halfway between a wail and a growl escaped Draco's lips, coming from somewhere deep inside him in places he kept away from even himself.

What, did Potter want something easier? Did he want the typical family, with the typical wife, and the typical kids in the typical home? Fat chance he had of getting that. Potter's life just wasn't typical in any way, shape, or form. And if it was, then it was a lie. Draco would never have what "experts" labeled "the perfect life" either. And it sucked. Sucked the life right out of him. Did Potter feel the same way? It was getting both harder and easier to tell at the same time. Potter was the only person in the entire world, in Draco's entire life, that could enlighten and confuse him so much at the same time. There was nothing more annoying than feeling like you've gained and lost something simultaneously. Actually, there was; not knowing what you'd gained or lost. That was Potter, in a nutshell. "Stop fucking thinking about him!" he growled to himself.But Draco knew that was impossible. Did he stick with Potter's thoughts like this? Did Potter go insane at night, trying to drive thoughts of him out of his head? Did Potter succeed? He doubted it. And then he doubted his doubt; why was Potter going out with Brown?

Because he was fucked up in the head. Potter was crazy. What the hell did he see in such an idiotic... what did Potter see in Draco? Someone to fuck? Did he see the same thing in the girl? Draco closed his eyes tightly, as if he were in pain. Surely Potter saw him as a little, just a little, more than someone to fuck in secret; he wouldn't have tried to ask questions if he didn't, right? Draco couldn't count on it; the pain he felt now would be nothing compared to what he'd feel if he believed, then found out he was wrong. The thought that someone could actually care for him... no, he couldn't hope for it. Besides, Potter had left him, anyway. Good thing he hadn't hoped. Then Draco realized he hadn't been breathing for the past couple of minutes. And when he forced himself to breathe again, he felt like someone had dropped an anvil on his chest.

Draco shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Damnit. Potter had run out on him. He'd fucked up the plan. Fucked up the deal. The deal was simple, and Potter had ruined it. Ruined it and left Draco feeling like he was dying. Why did he feel like he was dying? It was probably just the damned alcohol. Then Draco wondered why Potter had left in the first place. Sure, Draco had lost his sanity temporarily and asked questions. Personal questions. Which was a definiteno-no when it came to noncommittal sex. But Potter had more or less asked him things, too. He hadn't exactly come out and asked him what he was feeling, but he had worked his way around it... he'd done what the Muggles called beating around the bush. He'd been indirectly asking him why he needed something like the deal in the first place. So, to tell him off once and for all, Draco had turned around and whacked that bush down to the roots. Smooth. Maybe Draco had been left behind because he wasn't able to answer the questions he asked. Well, he would if he could. But he didn't even know what was wrong himself.

A mosquito landed on his thigh and he brushed away, the situation temporarily diverting his train of thought. But not making him forget. Nothing could take his mind off of his problems. Except for Potter. But now Potter was his problem. Damnit, everything was so fucked up, and it was all Potter's fault. And his own. But he'd never admit it. Not to himself, not to anybody. He'd keep living what people called "the life" until he was washed away. He wouldn't run away from any deals he made. Unlike some people. But he wouldn't wait around either. So there.

And then something inside him told him to look up. He lifted his head slowly from his knees, looking up into the sky. And saw a dark figure fly across the moon. He watched the shadow swirl and twirl around in the sky, dipping down to the ground and pulling back up again just before it hit the dew-covered grass of the Quidditch pitch. Potter. Potter was flying. Potter had said he flew for the same reasons Draco came to sit on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. So something was bothering Potter. What? Maybe he was feeling guilty about leaving him. Good. Son of a bitch. Was Potter messing around with him intentionally? Or was it an escape? Had Draco become more of a reminder than a way to forget? Potter had sure as hell become something real. A real pain in the ass.

Draco snorted, still watching Potter dart around the pitch. He never should have asked Potter to help him forget, offered to help Potter forget. But Potter had ended up being the best thing for him. And he'd also become the worst. And Draco couldn't tell Potter any of this because he didn't know how. But it didn't matter now, because apparently Potter was already gone. And Draco didn't know how to get him back, so he wouldn't try. Maybe Potter knew how, but if he didn't, then the deal was over.

Yes, Potter did seem to fuck up everything; before Potter, Draco had always left the Astronomy Tower feeling more in touch with himself, and now he felt more lost than he had ever felt before in his entire life.

0000

A/N: That's the end of chapter five. For those of you who believe it's too soon for Harry and Draco to realize their feelings for each other, don't worry; I think so, too. Like the end of this chapter says: Draco's never been more confused in his entire life. And, I mean, Harry's going out with Lavender. Of all people. They're still completely clueless, okay? And when one of them does find out (which one will it be? I don't know either. I'm actually in suspense, too), they'll most likely be in some major denial. And then you have to wait for the other guy to come around... tiring, isn't it? So, no worries. There's plenty more angst to go. And more sex. The sex won't stop. I'll give you a heads up when there'll be sex (between Draco and Harry, that is) again. Next chapter includes: a mortified, partially suicidal Harry, a controlling, shallow Lavender, a jealous, controlling Hermione, a supportive, mortified, partially suicidal Ron (turns out Lavender makes guys feel mortified and partially suicidal), and awkward attempts at sex between Harry and Lavender.And from the Slytherin side ofHogwarts: ajealous, raving Draco, a curious,analytical Blaise,and a slutty, bitchy Pansy.Reviewers, have at it!


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: Hello again! I know I told you there would be awkward attempts at sex between Harry and Lavender, but I have decided to... forget about that, since I'm the author and I can do stuff like that. And Lavender will seem EXTREMELY outlandish, but trust me, I actually know people like what you're about to read. Also, I said Hermione would be in this chapter, but I changed my mind because her appearances made the story "choppy." So, where did we leave off? Oh, yes, Draco went crazy and scared Harry, who then decided to... er... relieve sexual tension by asking Lavender out on a date, which was possibly the stupidest thing he could have done. But Ron's going to help him. Right? Hmm...

Disclaimer: I do not own Willow Rosenburg. Willow is a character from Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Enjoy.

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Chapter Six

"I'm off for the weekend

I couldn't imagine why you would save yourself"

"Skin," Breaking Benjamin

When Harry woke up on Saturday morning he felt like he was about to be sent off to the executioner's block, but he couldn't remember why. And when it all came back to him he pulled the blankets over his head and groaned, praying for sudden death. Hell was better than going to Hogsmeade with Lavender Brown. Maybe he had time to tell Lavender he'd changed his mind or something. He emerged from underneath the covers just enough to see the clock hanging on the wall. Five minutes to eight. Shit. Harry buried himself under the warmth of the blankets again and fought the urge to cry. Lavender Brown. Lavender fucking Brown. Why?

He was still asking himself the same question five minutes later when someone burst into the room. Harry groaned and rolled over onto his side, letting whoever it was know that he didn't want to be disturbed. Guys were understanding that way. Unless it was Seamus. He was just too bouncy and talkative to take a hint.

"Harry!" A nasal, singsong voice filled the room, making Harry cringe. Every possible curse word in the English language flew through Harry's head at lightning speed, and he clutched at the covers so tightly he almost ripped them apart. Lavender, his worst nightmare, was in his dorm. "Harry? Baby, you're late."

Baby? Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit...

"Honey? Are you still asleep?" Lavender began tugging at the covers, and Harry pulled back, teeth clenched and eyes widened, looking like a frightened animal. "Harry," Lavender grunted, pulling harder, "come on! Wake _up_!" With one final, freakishly strong tug, Lavender yanked the blankets off of Harry, leaving him sprawled out on the bed in his boxers. Lavender blushed, gaping at him. How the hell was he going to get her to have sex with him if she blushed at the sight of boxers? But then she smiled and winked at him. Winked.

And then Lavender was rummaging around in Harry's chest, tossing his clothes this way and that, muttering about his lack of style. Harry sat up slowly, still not fully comprehending that the nightmare that was Lavender Brown was in his room, looking at and touching everything he owned. Lavender sighed and picked up a dark green, long-sleeved shirt. "I guess this'll have to do, then," she said, laying it out on Harry's bed. Then she dove back into the pile of clothes.

Harry shrugged and put on the shirt. Then Lavender practically sprang up out of the pile of clothes, laying a pair of jeans out on the bed. "Oh, good, you've put on the shirt. You look so good in it, Harry. Makes your eyes look greener." She looked down at Harry's shoes, which were halfway under the bed. "Are those your only shoes?"

Harry nodded, zipping up his pants. Pray for the flu. Pray for the plague. Pray for death. Lavender sighed. "Well, I guess that means new shoes is going to be one of our top priorities today." She stood still for a second, hands on her hips, then she studied him critically. "Got any contacts?" Harry shook his head slowly. "Another thing to do, then," Lavender sighed.

"So, what're we doing at Hogsmeade? Shopping the whole time?" Harry's voice was weak. This was some terrifying stuff. And the day hadn't even really started yet.

"Of course. Harry, darling, we're the most beautiful coupleat Hogwarts. We've got to look the part, don't we?" Lavender stuck her lower lip out in what was probably supposed to be a sexy pout and fluttered her mascara-caked lashes. She linked her arm with Harry's and led him toward the door.

"Um, so, who's paying for this?" Harry asked.

"I told Daddy I had an emergency, so he owled me his credit card last night," Lavender replied. She punched Harry's shoulder lightly. "Don't expect me to pay all the time, though. This is just special." And then she did something absolutely horrifying. She kissed him. When she pulled away, Harry forced himself to smile. Number one priority on _Harry's_ list was toget Lavender drunk as soon and as rapidly as possible, then work on the sex factor. Until then he had to work on building up trust.

Lavender practically dragged Harry all the way down to the Great Hall. When Harry told Lavender he didn't really need to eat breakfast, Lavender laughed and told him he needed his strength. When translated, that meant: "I want to show everyone that you're mine now, whether you like it or not."

The next thing Harry knew, he was sitting next to Lavender at Gryffindor table, surrounded by all of Lavender's friends. And Lavender put half of a grapefruit on Harry's plate and told him to eat. Harry reached for the sugar, but Lavender slapped his hand. "You've got to watch what you eat, baby."

Harry groaned mentally and forced himself to dig into the grapefruit, chew, swallow. Hell, hell, hell...

"...what do you think, Harry?" Parvati's voice was loud. Really loud.

"Huh?" Harry asked, his mouth full of grapefruit.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Harry," Lavender said, pushing at his chin to close his mouth. "He thinks it's great. We talked all about it last night. You know, _in my dorm_."

Harry was certain he'd missed out on something when all of Lavender's sheep giggled, and Lavender rolled her eyes and smiled in a way that said she was too sophisticated to join in. Idiot. What was going on? "What was that?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, sweetheart. Just finish your grapefruit so we can go."

Oh, yeah. It wasn't over yet. Harry felt tears well upat the backs of his eyes. Where was Ron?

"...and he totally loves my new dress, don't you Harry?" Lavender was facing him now.

Harry shrugged and shoved more grapefruit into his mouth. Lavender was wearing a pink, low cut, flower-print dress that showed off her lacy pink thong when she sat down. Especially when she crossed her legs, which she was doing right now. And she was supposed to be innocent?

"I got the shoes and the purse half off since they go with the dress. Aren't they the cutest?" Lavender extended one of her legs to show off a high-heeled, pink sandal, and waved a matching purse around in the air. All of the sheep squealed. Great. Harry was going out with a stupid, pink,shallow Barbie doll that bathed in extremely strong perfume. And he was doing this all for the sex? Where the hell was Ron, damnit?

Harry looked around the Great Hall, looking for someone to help him cope with, or just get out of, a date with Lavender. His eyes habitually rested on Malfoy's usual spot at Slytherin table, but he wasn't there. Nothing new there; Malfoy skipped breakfast sometimes.

"Harry? Who are you looking at?" Lavender asked. She stared in the same direction as Harry, her eyes resting on Pansy. Then Pansy caught Lavender's eyes on her, took in Lavender's jealous, "back off" expression, and Harry gazing in her general direction. And flashed a smile that was so sweet it was evil,then blew a kiss at Harry. Lavender scowled, and Harry swore he could hear an animalistic growl escape from her lips. "Look at the time. Almost time for Hogsmeade. Let's go, Harry." Lavender stood up and left the Great Hall, pulling Harry after her.

Ron!

0000

Harry was right; Lavender and Hogsmeade was hell. Coming out of the fifth shop they'd been to that day, he had to blink every few seconds to make sure his contacts were still in place, and he was so weighed down with bags full ofLavender's "emergency" purchases that he wanted to kill Lavender's father. What had possessed the man to give her his credit card?Because Harrywouldn't have any room for all of his new clothes. He probably wasn't even going to wear them.

"Let's go in here, Harry." Lavender led Harry into some building and began taking bags away from him and setting them down on the floor. When he could see again, Harry realized they were in the Three Broomsticks. Harry collapsed on a nearby chair and plunked his head on the table. "Isn't this fun?" Lavender asked, moving her chair closer to Harry's and sitting down. Harry shrugged, not lifting his head up from the table. Lavender gave a fake, empty laugh, then placed her hand on Harry's head. "Sit up, baby," she said quietly. When Harry didn't move, Lavender planted a fake smile on her face and began running her fingers through his messy hair.

The feeling of her fingers moving through his hair reminded him of something, but what? Nobody had ever done something like this to him before. And why did Malfoy's face suddenly appear in his mind's eye? Malfoy didn't do stuff like that. Malfoy was _not _gentle.Harry sat up quickly. He had to stop thinking about Malfoy. He put his arm around Lavender's waist. Lavender's grin was so wide that Harry was afraid it would split her face in half. If that was all it took then maybe he'd get some after all. Maybe.

Just then, Ron's bright red head came in through the door of the Three Broomsticks. With another bright red head. And it wasn't Ginny's. "Ron!" Harry yelled, his voice a bit louder than usual because he was close to panicking. Lavender was a lot to handle, after all. Ron looked around, startled, then saw Harry and smiled. Smiled. Jackass. Leaving him alone with a crazy bitch like Lavender to be with... Harry couldn't remember who the girl was, but he knew she was from Ravenclaw. All he knew was that she was nice, and sort of nerdy. And she was Muggle-born, like Hermione.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, sitting down in the chair across from his best friend. "You know Willow."

Willow smiled nervously and tucked a stray strand of her short hair behind one ear. "Hey."

Harry nodded in reply, then shot a murderous glare in Ron's direction to let him know he'd yell at him later. Ron gulped and blushed.

"Looks like you've been doing a lot of shopping," Willow commented, looking at the bags piled up next to the table.

"Harry and I thought he needed clothes that were a little more... modern," Lavender replied, snaking her arm around Harry's waist. Damn.

"I think he looks okay," Willow replied, smiling.

Lavender managed to smile and frown at the same time. "Yeah, but now he'll be absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh. Right."

The group remained silent for the next few minutes, only opening their mouths to order drinks. Lavender was glaring at Willow, Harry was alternately glaring at Ron and staring incredulously at Lavender, Ron was looking everywhere but at Lavender and Harry, and Willow was fascinated with her mug of butterbeer.

"Yes, Gryffindors are the life of the party," Pansy's soft, silky-sweet voice finally broke the silence.

"Just go away, Pansy," Lavender snapped, her grip on Harry tightening painfully.

"The last time I checked, even Slytherins were allowed in the Three Broomsticks," Pansy replied smoothly.

"So why haven't you been in here before, then?" Lavender's hands were clenched into fists.

"Well, I heard a few new attractions have classed up the place." Pansy eyed Harry pointedly, making sure Lavender noticed. Ron noticed. Willow noticed. But Harry didn't; he was trying not to look at Malfoy, who was standing right behind Pansy.

"Yes, well, I hope you enjoy your time here. Come on, Harry." Lavender yanked Harry out of his chair, nearly ripping his arm off, and pulled him out of the Three Broomsticks. Ron and Willow followed, holding all of the bags that had been left behind.

"Let's go to Honeyduke's," Lavender said, already entering the candy shop.

"Um, what do you want us to do with these?" Ron asked, trying to hold on to all of the bags he had, and help Willow with the ones she was struggling to keep in her arms.

"Oh, thanks for holding on to them for us, Ron," Lavender said airily, walking over to a shelf of particularly strange looking candies.

"Yeah, and I'd like to thank you for helping to carry them around," Ron muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes and took some of the bags from Ron. "I should just let you carry them all."

Ron blushed. "Sorry, man. Things came up, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"Well..."

"It was my fault," Willow answered for Ron. "Since it's my first year here and all... well, I just wanted to go to Hogsmeade with someone I know, you know? So I ran into Ron last night on the way back from the library and asked him if we could go together so he can show me around and stuff."

Harry nodded. "Just don't leave me with her. She's driving me crazy."

"Don't worry. Nobody deserves to be left alone with Lavender," Ron said. "Except for, maybe, Malfoy."

Harry winced. Malfoy. Why did Malfoy have to keep popping up everywhere? And what was he doing with Pansy? Probably the same thing he was doing with Lavender. Whatever. "Yeah. Thanks."

Willow smiled. "I've only really talked to Lavender today, and already I can't stand her. She thinks I'm trying to steal you away from her, Harry."

Harry groaned. "She thinks everyone's trying to steal me away from her. She's a paranoid, controlling bitch."

Willow's eyes widened. "Then what are you going out with her for?"

For sex. Which hasn't happened yet. "I'm going to be dumping her soon."

"I hope it's really soon, for your sake," Ron said quietly, eyeing Lavender nervously.

As soon as Harry didn't need Lavender for sex anymore. Why did he even need her now? The only reason he'd asked Lavender out on a date in the first place was because he'd thought Malfoy was pissed off. And he'd seen Malfoy in the Three Broomsticks, and he had, in fact, looked pissed off. Extremely pissed off. But Harry could have sworn Malfoy hadn't been looking at him; he'd been glaring at Lavender. Or had he? Harry just never knew when it came to Malfoy. Malfoy was the only person in the world that kept him guessing. But if he wasn't wrong, then that meant Malfoy was, at least moderately, jealous. Maybe.

Lavender came back with a bag full of sweets. "Anybody else want anything? Let's go, then," she said before anybody could reply. The four of them went outside, standing around and wondering what they should do next.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to get some kind of conversation going. Silence made him insane. Not the way Lavender did. Silence brought out a different kind of insanity in Harry.

"She's back at Hogwarts. Not feeling good." Ron looked somewhat relieved. Harry looked at Ron, then at Willow, then back at Ron, his eyebrows raised. Ron blushed yet again and shrugged almost imperceptibly. Good. Harry knew that Ron had a crush on Hermione, but Hermione didn't seem to feel the same way. At least there was a possibility with Willow.

Lavender, not liking Harry's bringing up Hermione, squinted her eyes at Ron. "I'm so sorry for Hermione. I hope she's better before Monday. I know how much she hates missing classes."

"Yeah. She loves school so much it scares me sometimes." Harry sort-of-grinned, annoying Lavender even more.

"I like school, too," Willow said, defending Hermione. "What's wrong with school, anyway?"

"Nothing, except for the classes part," Ron replied.

"School _is_ classes, Weasley," Blaise said from behind them.

Harry, Lavender, Ron, and Willow turned around to face Blaise, Pansy, Goyle, Crabbe, and Malfoy. "What do you want, Zabini?" Ron asked, ready to fight if he had to.

"Well, that little remark about school was so stupid I just _had _to say _something_."

"So you've said it. Now go."

"What if he doesn't want to?" Pansy asked, edging closer to Harry.

Lavender's hand reached out for Harry instinctively, making Pansy smirk. "Then _we'll_ go."

"Can't take the competition, Brown?" Pansy asked quietly.

"Excuse me?" Lavender crossed her arms.

"Oh, nothing," Pansy said softly, studying her fingernails.

"That's it. What the _hell_ is your problem, bitch? Yesterday you never even so much as _looked_ at Harry"

"No, I looked. Don't think I wouldn't look at that fine..."

"Back off, bitch!"

"You already called me a bitch, dear." Pansy's voice was deceptively gentle.

"I'll call you a bitch as many times as I want, because that's what you are," Lavender snapped. "Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!"

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Pansy replied calmly. "Harry, darling, if you're not too busy a little later on, perhaps we could..."

Pansy was cut off because Lavender lunged at her and pinned her to the ground, squeezing her neck like a sponge. Pansy lashed out and punched Lavender's nose, making Lavender pull away with a sharp gasp. Everyone else stood around watching for a few seconds before springing into action. Crabbe and Goyle stood still, confused; they couldn't hit _girls_. So they slipped into Honeyduke's. Blaise stepped forward to pull Lavender away from Pansy, but Ron took this as a sign of hostility and began pounding Blaise into the ground. So Blaise retaliated, and the two of them began to beat the shit out of each other. And then Lavender's leg shot out and hit Willow square on the head, knocking her senseless.

Harry continued to watch Lavender and Pansy for a few more seconds, half-hoping Lavender would get herself killed, and then he looked up to see Malfoy was the only other person not fighting. And Malfoy was staring right back at him. He looked pointedly at Lavender, then returned his gaze to Harry, his expression one of disgust. Harry shrugged and looked at Pansy, then back up at Malfoy, his eyebrow raised.

"She's with Blaise," Malfoy mouthed, looking annoyed.

Harry's eyes widened. Blaise was with Pansy. Not Malfoy? Then he looked down at Lavender, and repressed the urge to burst into tears. He could be fucking Malfoy right now, but instead he'd set himself up for a miserable day with an unbelievably stupid bitch. And then he noticed Malfoy moving to the side of the brawl, motioning for Harry to do the same.

When Harry and Malfoy were a safe distance away from the fight, Harry said, "I don't know what possessed me to ask Lavender." Malfoy only shrugged. And it worried Harry. "I can't stand her."

"You got yourself in this mess," Malfoy replied.

"No shit. I'm just afraid I won't be able to get out of it."

"Dump her."

"It's not that easy..."

"Sure it is. You tell her you don't want to see her anymore. Or don't."

Of course Malfoy didn't care; they could see anyone they wanted. They weren't together or anything. "I only hooked up with her for the sex anyway. And I don't think I'll be getting any."

"I don't think you will, either."

What did that mean? "Yeah. I just had to get away this weekend."

"Away? Away from what, sanity?" Malfoy glanced at the fight going on next to them. "Well, semi-sanity, anyway. Hogwarts is never sane."

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "No kidding." Neither was Hogsmeade. Malfoy wasn't here with Pansy... was Malfoy pissed off?

"Meet me in the room by the suit of armor at ten," Malfoy said. Apparently he wasn't that angry. Or he was, and they were going to have angry sex. "We have unfinished business there."

And there was the light at the end of the tunnel; something to look forward to at the end of the hellish day. Harry Potter was, in fact, going to get some that night. And it wasn't going to be from Lavender Brown. Hallelujah, praise the Lord.

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A/N: And that's the end of this chapter. Yes, it cuts off. But that's because for now there's nothing else to say. For those of you wondering why Malfoy was so "forgiving," you'll find out in the next chapter. Review and let me know what you think. Please.


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: And it's chapter seven. At the end of chapter six, Draco told Harry to meet him for some "unfinished business," and you were probably left wondering why Draco forgave Harry so easily. I hope this chapter helps to clear that up. Read away!

Disclaimer: Willow Rosenburg will continue to be in the story, so from now on, just assume that I've said Joss Whedon owns the character Willow at the beginning of each chapter, just like I told you to assume I told you everything else was J.K. Rowling's. There will be no more disclaimers until further notice (if I decide to add someone or something else).

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Chapter Seven

"I don't care what you want, I just want mine

Get up, force it to fit, confined inside"

"Believe," Breaking Benjamin

Draco sat in the armchair he had blown a hole in the night before, staring at the flames flickering in the fireplace. It didn't matter how close summer was; Draco was always cold. He'd been especially cold when he'd seen Potter with... _her_... at Hogsmeade. But Potter was going to be with him tonight. Not that he really cared. They would just do what they always did, then go their separate ways until next time. That was how the deal worked. So simple. Until Potter had fucked it up. Yes, Potter had messed everything up, and now nothing would be the same. But they were still seeing each other tonight. Potter wasn't going to be with that... that _Gryffindor_. And Draco could still insult Potter's house because, first of all, the deal didn't change their opinions about each other, and, second of all, Potter wasn't really a typical Gryffindor. Draco had found there was something different about Potter; he wasn't the saint everyone insisted he was. Potter could have very well been in Slytherin. But he wasn't entirely a Slytherin, either. It was all so confusing.

But Draco didn't want to be confused. He hated being confused. A Malfoy was never supposed to be confused. Ironically enough, the only person that really confused him was Potter. And Potter was the person Draco was meeting up with every night to have mind-blowing sex with. And that was confusing, damnit. No, Draco couldn't be confused about the situation. He couldn't worry about it yet. He wouldn't ponder the many questions that made up Potter until the end of the school year came and he was forced to. But what was there to consider? Absolutely nothing. And that was a lie. And Draco hated lies. But he hated confusion, too. So he had to pick his poison, and he chose lies; lies allowed you to believe you were in control. And a Malfoy was always in control. So many rules. They came to him like a mental reflex.

Of course, knowing the rules didn't mean he had to follow them. After all, his father had told him quite clearly that he'd be disowned if he was ever caught "in an intimate relationship with another boy." So he wouldn't get caught. Not that he really cared about being disowned by his father. He hated his father. And his grandparents had left him plenty in their will; he'd inherit the moment he graduated from Hogwarts. So why didn't he just tell his father he was gay? Because he was lying to himself, and he was going to continue to do so until the confusion went away, damnit.

Draco frowned, looking around him. It was too quiet. He looked up at the clock, seeing it was only half past nine. Damn. He still had a half an hour before he could fuck Potter. And he would fuck him. He'd fuck him like there was no tomorrow because he deserved it. And because if Potter was satisfied, he wouldn't go off and do something stupid again. And Draco would do this all for Potter because he wanted to forget about the confusion and the lies. Ultimately, it wasn't about what Potter wanted; it was all about Draco. Right. So Potter could just go to hell with his damned questions and morals, because Draco only cared about getting what was his.

Potter's morals. Did Potter even have any morals? Yes, unfortunately, he did. Too bad. Potter had the potential to be extremely evil. Sure, Potter was positively wicked sometimes, but eventually his morality kicked in and he had to pretend to be the Golden Boy again until he was tired of it. And the switching back and forth was beginning to take its toll on Draco. How many more times would Potter about face until he was permanently stuck one way or the other? It just added to the confusion Draco hated. It made Draco feel differently about the world, too, and he didn't like that at all. A Malfoy knew his place in the world at all times. Except Draco didn't. Where was his place? It couldn't be alongside his father; he'd kill himself. He'd put up with seventeen years of misery, and he wasn't about to deal with any more.

But if his place wasn't with his father, with his family, then where was it? If he wasn't with his father, then he wasn't with the Death Eaters, either; he hated everything his father was, which meant he'd never be able to truly accept the Dark Mark. But he didn't belong on the side of the Light, either; he hated the apparent good guys' ridiculously strong sense of morality. Which was why Potter's shifting of attitudes annoyed him so much. Why couldn't people just accept that there was no "black" or "white?" There was only dull, never-ending gray. Which was why he had to remain distanced from Potter. Potter would choose the Light because he had to, and everyone believed Draco would choose the Dark. But he wouldn't, because he didn't like to do what everyone assumed was "only natural." It made him seem stereotypical. And Draco hated stereotypes. Did Potter feel the same way? Did he find everyone's quiet but unbearably loud insisting that he join the Light completely bothersome? Potter wouldn't choose the Dark; it had ruined his life. But so had the Light, in a way. He'd never had the option to choose. Neither had Draco. Maybe they'd be two people stuck in the gray area forever.

But they wouldn't be stuck together, because Draco wouldn't ask Potter what he thought about everything, and judging from the way he ran out on him the day before, Potter would never question Draco's beliefs.

And all of Draco's thinking led to greater confusion. Damnit. Why couldn't he have presented the deal to someone else? Someone less... difficult? Because at the time, Draco had thought Potter was the least confusing person he could have chosen; they were enemies. It had been simple. Except now it wasn't, and Draco was beginning to find fighting with Potter tiresome. Not that he didn't enjoy the sparring.It made him feel closer to being alive than he'd ever felt before. Except for when he was having sex. Usually. Occasionally his bloody confusion and Potter's goddamned sense of returning and retreating morality got in the way.

Which was exactly why the deal ended when school was over. Right? Right. Because neither of them would have the time, nor would they want to have the time, to continue to see each other. And even if, for some insane reason, they did continue to meet up occasionally, it would eventually become very difficult and they'd end up even more miserable than they already were. Not that Potter would ever really admit he was miserable. Some day the wizarding world would force them to decide which way they wanted to go in life. How could you choose a side? Life wasn't a fork in the road. It was a dark tunnel that branched out into many different directions, and then those branches separated into more, and then they also separated, and so on until there was no turning back. You couldn't just decide to be on one particular side; you had to make your way there. Even if you woke up one morning and said, "I think I'll be on the Dark side," or something like that, you'd still have to catch up with yourself...

Draco shook his head to clear it. All of thedifferentbrancheswere making him dizzy. When everything came down to it, Potter and Draco would go their separate ways when they left Hogwarts because what they had wouldn't be able to survive. So Draco would give Harry what he wanted without giving away any of himself, and Draco would take what he wanted. What he needed. He wouldn't care, wouldn't allow himself to care, if Potter had a sudden outburst of morality. He'd just move on. Find someone else.

Looking up at the clock again, Draco saw it was time for him to meet Potter. And, rising to his feet, Draco forced himself to believe that everything he had just told himself in the past half hour was true.

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A/N: Okay, okay. I know this chapter was very short. I know this chapter had no sex. But, hey, there will definitely be sex next chapter. And that's sex between Draco and Harry, by the way. I'm not sure about the length, though. It will most likely be longer than this one. I only like to give enough to get my point across. I didn't think this one was _quite _as choppy as chapter three, but I know lots of you are probably still angry. Don't worry, I will update very soon so you're not stuck with a short chapter.


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Hey, everyone! Miss me? Yeah, right. I told you I'd get chapter eight posted as soon as I could, and here it is! I'm sorry about the delay, though. What with being put in "read only" mode, and Thanksgiving... but, hey, I tried. Okay, I know I told you Draco and Harry would have sex, but... ha! Just kidding! Of _course _there's sex in this chapter! How could there not be with a quote like this (see below)?

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Chapter Eight

"Run away, make hate, and get laid

You tie me up

I've had enough to medicate"

"Medicate," Breaking Benjamin

Harry was late again. It had seemed like Seamus was never going to go to sleep;the hyperactive Irishmanhad to ask him about his date with Lavender, and when he was going to break up with her. As far as Harry was concerned, he'd never even asked her out in the first place. Harry shuddered and rubbed his arms, thankful to be out of the clothes Lavender had bought for him. He hoped her father considered an unbelievable amount of money spent on an outrageous amount of clothes an emergency. Then again, what with Lavender seeming to have something new on every day... well, the Browns obviously had plenty of money to spare. But did they have to flaunt it so much? The Malfoys didn't. Well, okay, they did, but only because they knew it drove people off the deep end. They showed off their fortune because they knew people didn't want them to. Then again, Malfoy didn't really seem to reek wealth like his parents did. Sure, he liked his designer clothes, and his other brand new, state-of-the-art "essentials," but other than that, he kept things quiet. And, of course, he made fun of people like Ron, but that was only because he didn't like Ron. It didn't have anything to do with money, or Malfoy would have made fun of Harry, too; he had the vault at Gringott's but nobody really knew about it, and his clothes weren't exactly new. And they didn't fit his form like Malfoy's clothes did.

Malfoy. Malfoy was going to be rather annoyed about his being late. And for some reason, Harry found he enjoyed it when Malfoy expressed his irritation. It made him feel like he was wanted for something other than saving the world. Like someone really wanted him for _him_; for who he was. Not just what he could do. Of course that was absurd; it was all part of the deal. Harry expected Malfoy to be there whenever he needed him, so why shouldn't Malfoy expect the same in return?

Reaching the entrance to their designated meeting place, Harry pulled down on the semi-rusty ax and waited for the stones to rearrange themselves. Malfoy was probably on the other side, waiting for Harry to walk in so they could get it over with. And for some reason, Harry didn't want to "get it over with." At least part of him didn't. Dean had had a "relationship" similar to his and Malfoy's a couple of months back, and Hermione had lectured him for at least an hour when she'd found out. She'd said something about not being able to truly respect yourself if you were giving yourself away to someone who didn't really know you. But that was ridiculous. She was a girl, and girls always overanalyzed things. Right?

The stones finally revealed the entrance, and Harry walked in slowly, waiting for his eyes to get used to the light. Sure enough, Malfoy was leaning against the wall to Harry's right. He didn't look particularly annoyed or impatient, but as soon as the last stone in the wall fell back into place behind Harry, he began to take off his clothes.

Harry did the same, starting with his shirt and making his way down. "So, I still owe you..."

"Yes, you do." Apparently all that Malfoy had had on was his school robes. And Harry suddenly wished he'd thought of doing the same because his jeans felt a little tighter than they had been just seconds before. Malfoy dropped his robes on the floor and walked over to Harry, who had just managed to strip off his clothing as well. Malfoy grabbed Harry by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall. He looked down into Harry's eyes intently for a few seconds. "You owe be big, Potter," he whispered before he leaned over and kissed him gently, "and you'll pay up tonight."

Harry shivered in excitement and apprehension. It was going to be a long night. Not that he was complaining. He started to sink to his knees, ready to suck Malfoy off, but Malfoy just pressed him even harder against the wall. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

Harry blinked. "I thought you said I owed you."

"You do."

"So?"

"So you do exactly what I say."

"And what do you say?"

"I say shut up and let me fuck you." Malfoy kissed Harry again, much more roughly this time, then began kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, slowly making his way down to his abdomen. Harry sucked in air and attempted to dig his nails into the wall behind him. "Fuck," he gasped when Malfoy's tongue circled the rim of Harry's cock.

"Not yet," Malfoy murmured, moving his hands slowly up to Harry's hips. And then he pulled Harry down to the floor fast, catching Harry off guard so he slammed hard against the floor on his knees. "Soon, though."

Harry reached out to touch Malfoy, but Malfoy pulled back, slapping Harry's hands away. "I said you do what I say. Did I tell you to touch me?" he asked sharply, grabbing Harry's hands tightly. "It's," Malfoy pushed Harry back so he was lying on the floor, "my," Malfoy moved so he was straddling Harry, "time." He leaned over and reached out so he was holding Harry's hands up against the wall, their faces inches away from each other. Malfoy moved to close the space between them in order to kiss Harry again, then he paused, looking into Harry's eyes as if studying something. Then he drew back, his hands still holding Harry's in check. "Contacts? You got contacts?" Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "You're a wizard, for Merlin's sake." He maneuvered his hands so he was pinning Harry's against the wall with one, and reached over to his robes with the other. "Honestly, Potter, you can be soutterly stupid sometimes that I find it miraculous that you've managed to stay alive so long." He pulled his wand out of one of the pockets of his robes. "Accio contacts." The contacts more or less popped onto the floor next to Malfoy. "Occulus Recarecto." Harry could suddenly see. That is, as well as he could in the rather dark room. "At least you got rid of those hideous glasses."

"It was Lavender. I happen to like my glasses."

"Of course you do," Malfoy muttered in a "what is one to do with someone like this?" way, then tossed his wand back onto his robes. "And now, back to business." He leaned over and kissed Harry's neck, sucking at the skin, massaging one of Harry's wrists with his thumb. "I assume you realize I do not want you doing anything but allowing yourself to be fucked?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Good, because I'm going to need my hands free for this." Malfoy let go of Harry's hands and sat back on his heels before spreading Harry's legs apart.

"How am I going to make it up to you..."

"I said you weren't to do anything unless I told you to do it, and that includes talking. Understand?"

Harry nodded again. Malfoy nodded with him, then grabbed Harry's wrists. "Stand up," he commanded, rising to his feet. Harry raised an eyebrow in question, wondering why he'd have to have two rather bruised knees the next morning if they weren't going to be on the floor. "I told you it would be a long night," Malfoy replied. He turned Harry around and pushed him up against the wall, then entered him from behind. Harry inhaled sharply and pressed himself backagainst Malfoy, who reached out andplaced his hands on the wall for leverage before driving into Harry over and over again hard enough to send him crashing into the wall.

Harry leaned against the wall to balance himself, clenching his teeth so tightly he thought they might fuse together. And resisted the urge to cry out. To scream. Because he knew he'd wake up the entire school if he did. Malfoy didn't seem to be any better off. And then Malfoy snaked his arm around Harry's waist, grabbing his cock, and started to give him the best hand job he'd ever received. Maybe it was just the fact that he was being fucked so hard he thought he was going to pop out of his skin.

And then Malfoy pulled him away from the wall and pushed him down onto the floor, still inside him. And Harry was on his hands and knees. And Malfoy was slamming into him from behind, and Harry was having a hard time keeping himself from flying into the wall. Malfoy's arms were planted on either side of Harry, his muscles about to burst out of his skin. "Just. let. go," he grunted, kissing the skin next to Harry's spine and biting down gently.

A strangled noise came from Harry's throat, then came against the floor. Malfoy, feeling Harry shudder beneath him, came as well, not bothering to muffle his cry. The sound echoed loudly throughout the small room as they both collapsed onto the floor, Malfoy lying on top of Harry.

They didn't move for several minutes, panting heavily. When the world finally stopped spinning, Harry shifted slightly, trying to get Malfoy off of him. A few seconds later, Malfoy groaned and rolled over onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. After a few more minutes went by, Harry turned his head to face Malfoy. "How the hell was that paying you back?"

"I'm not sure," Malfoy replied hoarsely. "But, like I said, we've got a long night ahead of us."

"Right," Harry said, grateful that the stone floor was so cold; he was afraid he'd burst into flames. "So we're not done yet."

"Not even close. I haven't had sex in two days, now." Malfoy smoothed his hair away from his face. "That really never bothered me before. And then I had to have sex with you all the time. Now I can't seem to go a day without it."

Without _it_. Sex. Not without _Harry_. Because it was part of the deal. Malfoy could have proposed the deal to anyone. Harry had only happened to be convenient. Apparently still was convenient.

"You changed before you came here," Malfoy said, changing the subject abruptly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You were wearing different clothes at Hogsmeade today."

"So?"

"They looked... nice." Malfoy was looking at the wall, away from Harry.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really? I couldn't stand them. They were too... new."

"Yes, well, I guess a response like that should have been considered obvious," Malfoy said, sitting up.

"Hm?" Harry asked, rolling over so he was lying on his back.

"You're weird," Malfoy replied.

"Gee, thanks. This is what one wants to hear after they've had sex."

"I just mean that you're not like anyone elseat Hogwarts. You don't care about fashion or being... popular. And when have we ever talked to each other any different before, during, or after sex?"

"Sarcasm, Malfoy. And I'm already the Boy Who Fucking Lived. Why should I give a damn about being popular?" Harry rose to his feet slowly, making sure his legs weren't too shaky. "We should find a room that at least has decent carpeting," he said, walking around the perimeter of the room carefully, "because all of these hard surfaces are really starting to mess up my knees. And my elbows. I almost fell off of my Firebolt the other day because my arm froze up when I was trying to turn."

Malfoy examined his nails for a moment before rising to his feet as well, wincing slightly. "Not-so-hard surfaces. Got it."

Harry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "So, now what?"

"Wait a few minutes, then we'll fuck again."

"Who's fucking?"

"You are. I have to recuperate."

"Right. But not here." Harry didn't really want to do anything on the hard, stone floor for at least a week. Or a few days. He reached behind him and pressed one stone that had a symbol engraved in it, making the wall open up again and reveal the corridor, with the Great Hall almost directly across from them.

"Where are we going, then?" Malfoy asked, rubbing his shoulder.

"I sort of feel like getting back at Snape by doing it on his desk. Or at least in his classroom."

"I don't know. He seems rather depraved. Maybe we'd just be doing him a favor."

"Please, don't." Harry waved his hands in the air and shut his eyes tightly. "I do _not _want to hear about Snape's sex life, nonexistent or not. I would prefer not to hear about his sexual preferences as well." He turned around and began to leave the room.

"You might not want to leave just yet," Malfoy called out quietly.

Harry turned around. "What?" he asked, confused.

Malfoy smirked. "I, personally, don't find anything wrong with your choice of apparel, but I'm not sure what other people will think..."

Harry looked down and realized he was still naked. "Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Don't thank me. I was actually rather tempted to let you go out like that." Malfoy picked up his robes and slipped into them.

"Of course you were." Harry snorted and put on his clothes slowly. After a few seconds, he began to laugh softly. "I was actually out in the hall for a few seconds." His laugh grew louder. "What if Filch had been out there?"

Malfoy began to laugh with him. "Peeves," he chuckled.

"McGonagall."

"D-D-Dumbledore."

Harry hoped the room was soundproofed, because he and Malfoy were laughing loud enough to be heard by anyone who happened to pass by. After a few minutes, Harry rose to his feet, clutching at his stomach. "Oh, Merlin," he gasped, wiping at his eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in... ever, actually. I think."

Malfoy shook his hair out of his eyes. "Me neither. If I have, then I don't remember." He looked around the room. "You didn't bring your invisibility cloak?"

"I couldn't chance getting it out of my trunk," Harry explained. "It took Seamus forever to go to sleep, and when he finally did, I was afraid I might wake him up again if I started digging around for it."

"Right. So we'll have to sneak down to the dungeons the old-fashioned way." Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck, then crossed the room. "Let's go, then."

Harry reopened the wall, and he and Malfoy exited cautiously, looking around and listening for anyone who might be coming around the corner. "It's clear on my side," Harry whispered, looking to the left.

"Come on." Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm and began dragging him in the direction of the dungeons.

"Do you think Snape'll still be there?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Malfoy began to walk faster.

"But what if he _is _there?"

"Why, do you actually care?" Malfoy asked, his tone sharp. "You said you wanted to get back at him, right? What better way than to get caught with me?" He paused at the end of another hallway, checking to see if anyone else was around. "Okay, let's go." He began to move even faster than before.

"Damnit, slow down," Harry winced.

"If you think this is bad, imagine how you're going to feel tomorrow," Draco replied unsympathetically. "If you hadn't run off so many times, we wouldn't be feeling like this right now, anyway."

Right. This was Harry's fault. A particularly painful jolt shot up his leg, making him cringe. Damnit, he'd never run away from sex ever again; getting back into it was just too painful. Especially where Malfoy was concerned...

"Hurry up, Potter," Malfoy growled, pulling Harry roughly down the stairs to the dungeons. "We've got to make up for lots of missed sex, and we're going to damn well do it tonight or I swear I'll yank you out of Transformation tomorrow." Malfoy slowed down slightly. "Or I just might start fucking you right there in front of everyone." He smiled evilly. "The look on McGonagall's face would be priceless."

"Too bad you're never going to find out exactly what she'd do if we started fucking in the middle of class since we're never going to do it." Harry's voice was low. He knew that if Malfoy smiled in that particular way, then he was actually considering it; he was so messed up in the head from missing sex that he just might try it.

"Oh, come on." Malfoy pretended to pout. "You can practically fuck me right under Snape's nose, but when it comes to _your _head of house..."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Harry said sharply.

Malfoy snickered. "Her expression would be perfect, though." He looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Don't worry. I understand that as long as I want to have you to turn to for sex, I can't mortify you or your... friends." He said "friends" as if they were slimy, disgusting trash.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"It means we won't have sex during Transfiguration," Malfoy replied, pretending he didn't understand what Harry really meant.

Harry shook his head. It was times like these that scared him; sometimes, Malfoy almost seemed to care about him. He wasn't sure why that freaked him out so much, but it did. Maybe it was because they were supposed to remain impartial to each other because of the deal, and if they actually started worrying about each other, then the whole arrangement might end... not that he really cared if Malfoy left. He could find someone else. But Malfoy was pretty... convenient.

"Here we are," Malfoy announced, stopping abruptly in front of the door to Snape's classroom. He opened the door and motioned for Harry to enter. "In you go, then," he said, pushing Harry slightly when he didn't move fast enough for his liking. He followed quickly behind him, closing the door quietly. "Now, let's get to it," he said, getting out of his clothes.

Harry just stared at him. "In a hurry?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

Malfoy sighed. "I told you, Potter," he said, briskly removing Harry's shirt. "I haven't had sex in two fucking days, and I'd like to make up for lost time."

"You could have fucked someone else, you know," Harry said, stepping out of his pants.

"It'stoo much work to convince someone to let you fuck them, though," Malfoy explained. "By the time I finally persuade them to get their goddamned pants down, I'm too tired to do anything other than the basics needed to get the job done." Malfoy frowned. "And then when whoever I was with sees me the next morning, I have to use all of the energy I have left to make them understand that I do not want to continue our relationship."

"Thank God you don't have to go through all of that trouble with me," Harry said sarcastically.

"We have a deal, not a relationship." Did Malfoy sound bitter? He looked down into Harry's eyes. "So, we're standing here naked. Why are we not having sex?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, then practically slammedagainst each other, kissing each other hungrily. "Malfoy," Harry gasped, throwing his head back while Malfoy sucked at the base of his throat, "are you trying to eat me or fuck me?"

"A little bit of both," Malfoy replied, burying his hand in Harry's hair and tugging back to better expose his neck.

"Smart ass," Harry growled. He pushed Malfoy backward until he was more or less sitting on Snape's desk. "I think this spot right here is perfect."

"Glad it meets your approval," Malfoy said, a little breathlessly. "Now get on with it, already."

"Eager?" Harry asked, his lips curling upward slightly.

"No, I just want to get this over with so I can have at least a _little _bit of sleep tonight." Malfoy spread his legs. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing." Harry immediately began driving into Malfoy, making him come in what must have been record time. The only problem was it took so much out of Harry that his knees gave way and he toppled over, sprawling out on the floor. "Fuck," he gasped, waiting for the world to come into focus again.

Malfoy remained on the desk, panting. "You can say that again." His breathing slowly began to return to normal. "And soon you can _do_ that again as well."

"Again? I can barely even manage to stand up," Harry complained. "Besides, it's _your_ turn to fuck _me_..."

"What did I say about tonight, Potter?" Malfoy asked, sitting up.

"I do what you say," Harry groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up on his hands and knees.

"Or you could stay just like that and I could take you right there." Malfoy's hands rested on Harry's hips.

Harry let his forehead press against the floor. "God, no. I won't be able to move my arms or legs for a week."

"What's so bad about that when you get mind-blowing sex in return?" Malfoy asked, massaging Harry's hips and working his way up.

"I won't be able to do it again tomorrow," Harry replied, enjoying the feel of Malfoy's hands moving up his sides.

"Right." Malfoy rose to his feet, smirking when Harry moaned in protest. "Come on, get your clothes on. Let's go." Malfoy walked over to his pile of clothes and began to put them on, refusing to wince.

Harry crawled over to Snape's desk, using it to pull himself up to his feet. Then he limped over to his clothes. He proceeded to stare down at them, not wanting to bend over to pick them up. Malfoy sighed. "Accio clothes." The clothes levitated off of the ground and floated over to him. "Here," he said, shoving the bundle into Harry's arms. "Put them on, now."

After a few more minutes had gone by, Harry was fully clothed, and Malfoy was leading him out of the room. "Where to go...?" He looked from left to right, wondering which direction to take.

"What, you mean we're not...?"

"Potter." Malfoy's voice was low and authoritative.

"Right. Sorry."

"We'll go this way." Malfoy moved to his left, with Harry following behind him.

"What's this way?" Harry asked. They'd never actually gone in this direction before.

"You said you wanted to have sex on something less... unrelenting, right?" Malfoy continued to lead him down the corridor.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then he remembered that Malfoy was sore, too. He wasn't doing this for him, he was doing this for himself. Whatever. As long as he didn't have to deal with a hard, cold, stone floor digging into his limbs, he was satisfied. And then Harry noticed they were standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Malfoy turned around to look at him, waiting for him to say something. Harry merely raised an eyebrow. Malfoy shook his head. "Everybody's in bed and asleep now, so if we cast a soundproofing charm on the common room, we can have sex in there." Malfoy smirked. "So, cover your ears." Harry looked at him questioningly. "What, you think I want you to know the password to get in? Think again, Potter. Now, cover your ears."

Harry covered his ears, fighting back a grin. Malfoy was rather strange at times. Then again, he probably seemed somewhat odd at times as well. Then Harry noticed Malfoy's lips were moving. "What?" he asked, taking his hands off of his ears.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How do I know you're not just pretending to not hear me? Sing or something so you drown my voice out. And did I tell you to stop covering your ears?" Harry replaced his hands, and Malfoy clamped his own over them. Then he turned his head to look at the portrait covering the entrance and said something, but Harry couldn't really make it out. Which was the whole point to his covering his ears and talking nonsense. When he finally let his hands fall to his sides, Malfoy looked at him strangely. "What were you talking about, Potter?"

"Hm? What, you mean the nursery rhymes?"

"Hm..."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, come on, you haven't heard of nursery rhymes?"

"No, I've heard of nursery rhymes. I just haven't heard any of the ones you were saying."

"Oh, well, you most likely wouldn't have. You don't have much to do with Muggles."

"Muggles? Muggles lack the intelligence to write nursery rhymes."

"You'd be surprised."

"You're just biased."

"Well, wouldn't you be, too?"

"Absolutely not. Muggles are inferior to wizards and that's the end of it." Malfoy waved his hand as if he were shooing the subject away. "Inside." He entered the common room, and Harry followed. It looked, for the most part, exactly the way it had when Harry had been there with Ron, disguised as Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy hurried across the room, pulling Harry after him, then pushed him into the leather armchair that wasin front of the fireplace. He looked up at Malfoy, who was soundproofing the room. Harry shrugged and took off his shirt, tossing it to the side. Then he got out of his jeans, knowing Malfoy would want to start right away; they'd had to move around a lot. Judging by how he felt right then, Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't be having sex for at least a week. Or a day, give or take. What could he say? Ever since he had started sneaking off to see Malfoy, he'd been addicted to sex.

Malfoy had already taken off his clothes, and was now straddling Harry. "Just make sure you keep your voice down," he said quietly. "Nobody's going to hear us, but they'll still be able to see us. I want to be able to hear if anyone's coming."

Harry nodded, leaning back. "So, how long are we going to be down here?"

Malfoy buried his fingers in Harry's hair, and he leaned in and kissed him roughly. "I've been telling you all night that we're making up for two nights of missed sex. What do you think?" He brushed Harry's lips with his own. "And don't talk unless I tell you to." He let his hands trail down to Harry's shoulders, then he started massaging them. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "That feels good, then?" Malfoy asked, breathing into Harry's ear, making him shiver. "How does this feel?" he asked, moving one hand down to Harry's cock, stroking it. Harry bucked up into Malfoy's hand slightly, exhaling sharply. Malfoy grinned. "Right, then."

Harry clamped onto the arms of the chair, breathing shakily. He knew that in a few seconds, Malfoy would make him lose grip with reality; make him forget. Malfoy seemed to have that effect. He knew how to touch him in all the right places, even if Harry thought he was wrong at the time. And now Malfoy was slapping his face lightly. "Stay with me," he commanded, grinding his hips against Harry's.

Harry moaned, nodding. It was hard not to; even when he was alone in bed, or with his friends, or in the middle of class, his mind would be with Malfoy. With the sex. Because, Harry had to admit, Malfoy was fucking incredible. That is, he was incredible at fucking. Did Malfoy think the same way about him? Did Malfoy even think about him at all? Harry realized he'd been spacing out again when he felt Malfoy's teeth nipping at his neck. "Sorry," he muttered, readjusting himself in the chair.

Malfoy frowned. "You're not with me tonight." He sat back on his heels, studying Harry. "Where are you?" He leaned in close to Harry so he was staring directly into his eyes. "Don't leave me again," he ordered, running his hands down Harry's legs before spreading them apart. He repositioned himself so Harry was inside of him, wriggling around a bit until he was more comfortable. "Mm, that's better." Malfoy looked very much like a contented cat. Harry swore he could practically hear him purring. "Remember, don't scream too loud." He began to move up and down like he had that day in the conference room, his muscles working furiously until he found a rhythm that both he and Harry enjoyed. Which happened to be unbelievably fast. And hard. Within a few minutes the armchair was rocking back and forth on its legs, getting pushed back away from the fireplace.

Harry, who usually managed to keep quiet, bit his lip and shifted in the chair again. "Malfoy..."

But he didn't need to say anything else, because Malfoy always seemed to know. Malfoy reached down to the side of the armchair, still slamming into Harry and not breaking the steady pace, and pulled a lever so the armchair reclined backward, nearly sending Harry flying over the back. But Malfoy clamped his hands onto his shoulders and held him steady. And then Harry was able to stretch out along the length of the armchair, and Malfoy spread out on top of him. And Harry was looking up at Malfoy, noticing that, with Malfoy's back to the fire, he seemed to be a contrast of light and shadow. Which, Harry guessed, he already was anyway. Malfoy was unbelievably attractive, and sometimes his pale blonde hair and blue eyes made him seem deceptively angelic. Deceptively being the key word, since Malfoy was really as far from angelic as you could possibly be. Well, no, because that would have made him demonic, and Malfoy wasn't exactly demonic. He was somewhere in between the two. And the way that the fire made him seem like a living shadow, with his hair glowing like a halo around his head, he seemed to be a physical representation of his personality.

And then Harry noticed that Malfoy was looking just as intently into his eyes as Harry must have been looking into his. And then he saw the realization in Malfoy's eyes, and Malfoy looked away, bending over to lick and suck at Harry's nipples. Harry moaned and arched his back, still thrusting up into Malfoy. There was something oddly appealing about not having to balance yourself so you wouldn't smash your limbs against a stone floor, or topple over a table, or avoid crashing into a wall. Harry knew they'd be coming to the common room often in the future.

Eventually, Harry realized that Malfoy was getting angry because he still hadn't come because Malfoy was moving faster, harder, and he was staring at him intently. And Harry knew that Malfoy was wondering where he was. Just a few days before, Harry had been asking Malfoy where he went when they were having sex. It was different though. When Malfoy seemed to be somewhere else it was like his mind was completely gone, and his body took over; he came within minutes. But when Harry left... well, he didn't really seem to leave at all. If anything, he seemed to be more focused on what was whirling around in his mind than at any other time. He had told Malfoy he envied him. He did. He never seemed to be able to completely escape his problems, and all Malfoy had to do was... well, whatever the hell it was he did.

And then Harry was shooting into Malfoy, and he wondered how that could have happened. Then Malfoy was lying on top of him, breathing heavily, and they were tangled up together on the armchair, and neither of them wanted to leave the warmth of the fire or each other. "So, we'd better get on making up for that lost time," Harry murmured, stroking Malfoy's hair and staring up at the ceiling.

Malfoy shifted against Harry, inhaling slowly, deeply. "I think we just did," he said softly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, still moving his fingers through Malfoy's hair.

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The clock in the common room struck four, waking them up. Malfoy got out of the armchair slowly. "You should probably go," he said, walking over to the rumpled pile on the floor nearbythat was his clothes. "Blaise wakes up around this time."

"This early?" Harry asked, yawning and stretching.

"Yeah. He gets a lot of crap from us about it. His excuse is always, 'Why waste so much time lying in bed when you're not in the slightest bit tired and you could be doing something productive?'" Malfoy shook his head in disgust, pulling up his pants.

"Now, that sounds so much like Hermione it's almost scary." Harry more or less slid out of the armchair so he was half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, basking in the warmth from the fire.

"Well, at least Blaise isn't obsessed with homework and tests like Granger is."

"Nobody is obsessed with school like Hermione is. I don't know what she's going to do once she gets out of Hogwarts." Harry laughed softly. "She'll probably end up teaching here."

"What about you?" Malfoy asked conversationally, not quite looking at him.

"I think I'll probably be an Auror," Harry replied, gazing into the fire.

Malfoy snorted. "Of course."

Harry looked up at Malfoy. "Why not?"

Malfoy shook his head. "It's nothing. It just figures, is all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone expects you to protect the wizarding world, and what better way to do that than work in a profession that hunts down the 'bad guys?' It's like you're playing right into their hands."

"What else am I supposed to do, then? I'm not good at anything else." Harry rose to his feet and began putting on his clothes.

"Exactly. You haven't allowed yourself to _explore _anything else. And when you leave Hogwarts in a few months, you won't be able to do so. Every wizarding organization in the world is going to be expecting you to become an Auror. Just try and apply for something in the Muggle studies office or something like that. I'll bet you fifty galleons that either they'll think you're joking, attempt to persuade you to become an Auror instead, flat out refuse you and say you're not 'cut out for this sort of thing,' or something along those lines. You, along with everybody else, believe that being an Auror is just about the only option out there."

"I don't think being an Auror is my only option," Harry retorted, shrugging into his shirt.

"No? What else are you considering, then?" Malfoy asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head in exaggerated curiosity.

"I... well... um... I like to cook."

"A chef. They probably won't even let you through the door, let alone accept your application." Malfoy moved so he was standing directly in front of the fireplace.

"What the hell do you know, Malfoy?" Harry asked, irritated. Some part of him that was buried deep down inside knew that Malfoy was probably right. Malfoy had the annoying habit of usually being right about almost everything. "What are you going to do?"

Malfoy turned to face Harry. "I don't intend to do much of anything," he replied calmly.

"Well, I guess it's easy for someone who has a fortune to fall back on."

"You don't know anything about my life or what I want, Potter, so we will end this conversation right here. Good night." Malfoy broke the soundproofing charm, then left the room to go to his dorm.

Harry, grumbling, left the common room and hurried to his own dorm. When he reached his bed, he figured he might as well just not even bother trying to catch any sleep, since he'd have to drag himself out of bed in a couple of hours, anyway. So he changed his clothes and went back down to the common room, flopping down on one of the more comfortable sofas. However, despite his efforts to stay awake, within seconds he was in a deep sleep.

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A/N: And that was chapter eight. You like? So, how was your Thanksgiving? I actually didn't feel like I was about to explode this year. And I had dessert and everything. Amazing, huh? Yeah, I know I'm a freak. Shut up. But review, too. Please.


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: And it's the day after Thanksgiving. I just got back from shopping for five hours. I swear my feet are about to just fall off or something. So, here's chapter nine (finally, the whole uploading thing is fixed)! Oh, I know I've been alternating the point of view between Harry and Draco, but the next few chapters are going to be basically in Harry's perspective. Oh, and make sure you read the author's note at the bottom.

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Chapter Nine

"So, just when you think that you're all right, I'm crawling out from the inside

I never hurt anyone, I never listen at all

Just stay away from the white line

I'd say your worst side's your best side"

"Polyamorous," Breaking Benjamin

"Harry, come on. Wake up, mate."

Harry woke up slowly to Ron's shaking him urgently. "What?" he muttered, his voice rusty.

"You didn't come back to the dorm last night," Ron said, sitting down next to him on the couch. "I almost came looking for you. Then I remembered you had a 'date' with Lavender... so, did anything happen?"

Harry bent his legs so Ron would have more room. "Sort of," he replied. Something had happened all right. And that something had him so sore he was afraid to move.

"Was it worth it?" Ron asked, leaning back and spreading his arms out along the back of the couch.

Harry stared off into space for a few seconds. "Yeah," he said finally, his lips quirked in a small half-smile.

"Did you break up with her, or are you going to some time today?" Ron stretched his legs out so they were closer to the fire.

"What? Oh, um, no, I haven't yet." Harry groaned. "That's going to be loads of fun."

"You got yourself into it, mate," Ron said, laughing softly. "I'll help you, though, if you want."

"What, you mean like you did yesterday?" Harry asked, mock-glaring at Ron.

"Um, yeah," Ron said, blushing. "I'm really sorry about all that. But, you know, Willow wanted me to show her around and stuff..."

"You ever going to ask her out?" Harry asked.

Ron's blush deepened. "I don't know. I'm not really sure whether or not she likes me that way..."

"There's only one way to find out. And I think she does. And, technically, you've already been out on a semi-date. You two seemed to get along okay." Harry studied Ron's expression intently, smiling when Ron's face became an even deeper shade of red. "Seriously, though," Harry said, punching Ron lightly on the arm, "ask her."

"Well, she lives in the U.S. anyway..."

"All the more reason to ask her now."

"...Right. Okay. Soon."

"Huh."

"Seriously."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I will!"

Harry laughed. "I was just messing with your head." Ron scowled, making him laugh more. "Sorry." He shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, trying to crane his neck to see the clock.

"Almost one," Ron replied, running a hand through his hair. "You must have had a long night."

Harry coughed. "Yeah, well, you know..."

"...Sure." Ron blushed. Usually, when people tried to get Ron to talk about his sex life, they assumed he was reluctant because he didn't have one. Harry and Hermione were the only two people in the world that knew the real reason. Harry knew because Ron had told him, and Hermione knew because she was who Ron had had sex with. Their first time together had been awkward, and every time after that had left them feeling extremely weirded out. They'd decided they were just meant to be friends and nothing more. Harry was just relieved it hadn't ended in a massive fight; he usually ended up getting caught in the middle of them. Ron cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, you want to do anything in particular today?"

"I've got homework to make up. I have to break up with Lavender. I should probably eat something. I'm tired like you wouldn't believe, so I should probably get some sleep so I can keep my eyes open during classes tomorrow."

"Sounds like fun," Ron said sarcastically. "I know if I don't get my homework done, Hermione'll be on my case like... well, Hermione." Harry nodded understandingly; Hermione was in a league of her own. "If you want me to back you up when you dump Lavender," Ron continued, "we'd better get it over with fairly soon. You know, 'cause you'll want at least a day's time between now and when you have to make a public appearance in class. You know how Lavender gets when she feels she's been wronged." He shuddered. "Whatever happened to that Wilson guy, anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "I think he got a transfer to Durmstrang."

"Yeah. And what about that girl he was cheating on Lavender with?"

Harry shrugged. "There've been a bunch of rumors. Some say she was transferred to Beauxbatons, and some say she went insane and got sent to St. Mungo's. Others say she committed suicide." Harry paused. "I'm going to go with the transfer to Beauxbatons."

Ron nodded. "You'd think a slow, shallow girl like Lavender wouldn't be able to do anyone much harm," he said, letting his head fall back on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Then she has youmake the journeyfrom semi-popular to complete pariah in a day. Tops."

"It's just one of those situations that makes sense in a sick, twisted way."

"Yeah. And Wilson was an okay guy, too."

"He was pretty cool. If he hadn't been cheating on Lavender I would have slapped him around and told him he'd better get on it, and quick."

Ron laughed. "I know. Lavender's crazy. What was that one girl's name, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, Carmine, I think. She was part Japanese, right? She didn't look too bad." Harry folded his arms behind his head and crossed his legs.

"Didn't look too bad? She was just hot. It's a shame she left."

"Why, would you have asked her out or something?"

"Maybe," Ron said, fidgeting.

Harry smirked. "What about Willow?"

"No, I like her. She's great."

"Whatever you say, Ron."

Ron sat up straight. "I'm serious, Harry."

"I know. I'm telling you, you are way too easy to mess with. It's fun."

"Oh, shut up," Ron grumbled, not really angry. He grinned. "But Carmine was hot, don't you think?"

Harry nodded slowly, his expression solemn.

"Everyone said she had a crush on you."

Harry nodded again, still looking serious.

"But you didn't like her." Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I'm telling you, you aren't going to find many girls in your life that look like _that_."

"She wasn't my type," Harry replied calmly.

"How do you know she wasn't your type? You never really even talked to her."

"Why are you trying to fix me up with someone that, first of all, we never really even knew, and, second of all, isn't even around anymore?" Harry asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I don't know. I just thought if you were desperate enough to hook up with Lavender, then you definitely needed someone." Ron ran his hand through his hair nervously, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm okay, Ron. Hormones are subdued. For now, anyway. Besides, if Carmine were still here, you'd be trying to hook up with her yourself, instead."

Ron shook his head. "She looked really nice, but I think she was kind of shallow."

"Not as shallow as Lavender, apparently, since Wilson was sneaking off to see her."

"I don't think anybody's quite as shallow as Lavender." Ron snorted. "Even Parvati seems to have some small fraction of a brain."

"You do seem to have a thing for brainy girls," Harry joked. "First Hermione, now Willow..."

Ron blushed. "Hey, Hermione was my first crush, and Willow's really nice."

"But she's not hot like Carmine," Harry pointed out.

"It's not like looks matter or anything," Ron said defensively.

"So, you admit you think Carmine's hotter."

"No! I... you're messing with me again, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Stop it."

"Sorry. I'll try."

Ron scratched his neck. "You won't say anything about this to Willow, right?"

Harry laughed. "No. I'm not that mean."

"Right." Ron relaxed into the couch again. "You know, if we start doing our homework before Hermione wakes up, we just might get some free time tonight."

"Don't count on it, Ron," Hermione said, entering the common room.

Ron jumped. "Er, morning, 'Mione."

"Good morning, Ron." Hermione sat down in the armchair positioned next to the couch. "'Morning, Harry."

"'Morning," Harry replied.

"So, you two have homework to do?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Ron admitted reluctantly. He looked at Harry. "What are you going to do first?"

Harry shrugged, then turned to face Hermione. "Is Lavender awake yet?"

Hermione frowned. "She's awake, but she's still in bed. She's lying there with this stupid, ugly green stuff on her face, reading some sort of beauty magazine." Hermione shook her head in disgust. "She said something about getting up before eight o'clock on a Sunday being unfashionable. Christ, what an idiot."

An idiot that Harry had asked out. And he hadn't even been drunk. And he was pretty sure he hadn't been possessed. All he had to blame was his stupidity, driven by raging hormones. But maybe it would be easier to break up with her if her face was covered with ugly green crap...

"Wait until she comes down here, Harry," Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts. "It'll be better if you have an audience."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Since when is going through what's bound to be a dramatic break up in front of an audience a good thing?"

"Don't you remember Christopher Summers?" Hermione asked. "The officials were ready to send him to Azkaban before Parvati finally wised up and told them that he hadn't really attempted to rape Lavender."

Ron shuddered. "What a head case. I feel sorry for the guy she marries."

"If she does marry," Harry said.

"Yeah. But God help the guy," Hermione said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of tissues, then started blowing her nose loudly. "Ugh," she said, tossing them into the fireplace when she was done. "My ear just popped."

"Here," Ron said, reaching into his pocket. He tossed her a stick of gum. "Chew on this."

"Thanks," Hermione said after she'd been chewing on the gum for a few seconds. "You can work on your homework while you wait for Lavender."

Harry groaned. "Yeah. Tomorrow better damn well make up for the hell I'm going to be put through today."

"Huh, you know it'll be worse," Ron said, standing up. "Lavender will immediately set to work trying to make your life miserable."

Harry cringed. "Maybe I should just keep on seeing her for awhile..."

"No!" Ron cried out. "The longer you stay with her, the more insulted she'll be when you break up with her."

"Yeah, I still don't want to deal with everyone trying to get me out of the school, though."

"Which is why you should definitely get rid of her now before things get too serious."

"Not necessarily..." Hermione said.

Harry sat up. "Hermione? What are you thinking about? Do you have an idea? Is it good?For the love of God, tell me!" He coughed, embarrassed, when Ron and Hermione both stared at him, surprised. "You see if _you_ can be calm when you've got Lavender for a girlfriend."

Hermione shrugged. "Fortunately, I won't ever have to deal with that problem. However, I might have a plan that will allow you to get away from Lavender, and maintain your current social status." Both Ron and Harry were leaning toward her eagerly, their expressions pathetically expectant. Hermione shook her head. "Look, what annoys you about Lavender so much?"

Harry snorted. "Have you noticed how clingy and controlling she is? It's completely unbearable. I'm surprised she even gave Wilson enough time and space to be able to cheat on her." He frowned, pressing his brows together. "So, where are you going with this?" he asked.

"Yeah, where?" Ron was practically in Hermione's face now, on his knees and leaning against the armchair.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "So, try giving Lavender a taste of her own medicine." Both Ron and Harry looked confused. "Oh, God help me. Be absurdly clingy right back, Harry. Drive her insane by not giving her enough space, enough time to get anything done... I'm pretty sure you'll drive her up a wall and over to the other side."

Harry was silent, considering Hermione's plan. Then he shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"But what if it doesn't work? What if it gets worse?" Ron asked, clutching the armrest of Hermione's chair tightly enough to make his knuckles white. "Merlin, Harry, you'd never be able to get away!"

Hermione pushed Ron's face away with her hand. "Shut up, Ron. Your overactive imagination is scaring Harry."

And Harry did look rather pale. He looked at Ron. "You don't think...?"

Ron shrugged, swallowing.

Hermione elbowed Ron in the chest. "It'll be fine, Harry. I promise. And if anything goes wrong..."

"Why would anything go wrong if you promised it'll be fine?" Ron asked.

"I'll get you out of it," Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

Harry inhaled shakily. "Okay. Let's try it, then."

Ron's eyes grew wide, and he rose to his feet slowly. "Good luck, mate," he said, his voice low and raspy.

"For God's sake, Ron, he's not dying!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hey, being shackled with Lavender for a lifetime is just as good as death," Ron said, indignantly. "Actually, death is probably preferable."

"Oh, honestly..."

"Would you two just shut up?" Harry barked, looking rather tense. He was about to risk his sanity, his social status, and quite possibly his life, on a plan that Hermione had just presented to him.

"Sorry, mate," Ron apologized, looking sheepish. "I guess I just got so caught up in your situation that it's almost like _I'm _the one who has to dump Lavender."

"I wish," Harry mumbled, standing up. "Be back in a few."

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"Lavender bought me clothes, so I might as well wear them," Harry explained. "Have to look nice, too." He shook his head and trudged up the steps to his dorm. And he'd thought things couldn't get worse _yesterday_...

0000

Harry entered the Great Hall, his eyes focusing on Lavender, who was obviously gossiping about someone with Parvati. He contemplated running out of Hogwarts and admitting himself to St. Mungo's before sighing, straightening his shirt, and entering the room. He slowly walked toward Lavender, debating whether he should break up with her or act... oh, the horror of it all. And then he remembered Wilson Cooper and Christopher Summers. And Carmine Chu. Poor girl. She probably _had _committed suicide. Harry took a deep breath, then approached Lavender, forcing himself to smile brightly.

Upon reaching Lavender, Harry wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "Good morning, beautiful," he said, quietly enough to sound intimate, but loud enough for the other girls surrounding them to hear; Lavender liked to show off in front of her sheep.

Lavender blushed, giggling. "Good morning, yourself," she crooned.

Shit. Harry sat down next to the girl of his nightmares, making sure he kept the goofy grin in place. "You look great," he said.

Lavender grinned and looked at him through her lashes. "You really think so?"

"Uh-huh," Harry replied.

"You look good, too, Harry."

"Because of you," Harry said, wincing inwardly. How long did this have to go on?

"Oh, well," Lavender laughed and waved dismissively. She turned to Parvati. "So, we're still on for that makeover?" she asked.

Parvati nodded. "Those girls we invited from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw can come, too."

Harry cringed, bracing himself for what he was about to do. "Makeover? Where?"

"Oh, up in our dorm," Lavender replied.

"Oh. Well, I was hoping we could spend the day together..." Harry trailed off. "But, hey, that's okay. I'll just come up to your dorm and visit you."

"That's okay, Harry. You don't have to."

"But I want to." Oh, just hurry up and dump me already!

"You'll probably get bored," Lavender said, reaching out and smoothing a strand of Harry's hair away from his eyes.

Harry took her hand in his own and kissed it. Then resisted the urge to gag. "I won't get bored if I'm with you." Ugh.

Lavender's smile wavered uncertainly. "Um... okay." She turned to Parvati. "And you let all of the Slytherin girls know that none of them were invited, right?"

"Why would we want to come anyway?" Pansy's voice came from behind them.

Lavender looked like she was ready to explode. "What are you doing over here, Pansy?" she asked. "Quite a way from Slytherin table, don't you think?"

Pansy shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It's not that far, really."

"Well, go back over to your Slytherins."

"And why can't I talk to students outside of my House?" Pansy asked.

"Because... because..."

"After all, Dumbledore _did_ tell us to make friends with other students. I just came over to extend the hand of friendship..." she trailed off, eyeing Harry pointedly and making sure that Lavender noticed.

Lavender actually growled. "You remember what happened yesterday, Pansy?"

"Yes. I kicked your ass, Brown. I kicked it to the curb. Literally."

Lavender's face turned pink. "Well, it's going to be different this time. Trust me."

"Why? Because you've got all of your stupid lackeys to back you up? I'm sure." Pansy remained calm, infuriating Lavender all the more.

"Get out of my face before I break yours," Lavender threatened.

It took all of Harry's willpower to refrain from saying several different sarcastic comments. None of them favoring Lavender. Too bad he had to be overly clingy. "Hey, Lavender," he said, placing his hand on her arm, "maybe we should..."

"If that's a threat, then it's a pretty lame one," Pansy taunted.

God help him, Harry was about to defend Lavender. He stood up and faced Pansy. "Listen, Parkinson," he said, keeping his voice low. Some, like Lavender and her sheep, would have thought his tone was menacing. Others, like Pansy, knew he was just trying to hold back fits of laughter. "Just leave Lavender alone, okay?"

Pansy looked at him for a few seconds, studying him, then smirked. "All right," she said, then leaned forward to whisper loudly into his ear, "for you." Pulling away, she winked at him so only he could see her, then sauntered off, moving her hips exaggeratedly. Harry stared after her, wondering what had just happened. Had Pansy Parkinson just helped him out?

Lavender was standing next to him. "Gah, the nerve of her! Argh!"

Harry turned to her, taking her hands in his. "Don't let it bother you. She's got nothing on you." He kissed her slowly, then pulled away, smiling.

Lavender grinned. "Okay, Harry," she said. She looked at Parvati. "Come to the bathroom with me, please?"

Parvati was already on her feet and moving.

Harry braced himself, then said, "Don't take to long, or I'll miss you."

Lavender paused and looked at him oddly, then left the Great Hall with Parvati.

Harry stood there for a few seconds, staring after them, then he looked at the rest of Lavender's friends. He shot them a nervous smile, then hurried along the table until he was sitting across from Ron and Hermione. "I can't do it," he said, picking at his sleeve. "Hermione, I can't go through with it."

"Harry, did you see the way she's been reacting? Come on, it's working. Just hold on for a bit longer," Hermione encouraged, looking at him sympathetically. "Here, have something to eat." She handed him a cinnamon roll.

Ron, who had been oddly silent, finally spoke up. "I don't know how you do it, Harry," he said, his voice quiet and shaky.

"Neither do I," Harry replied, his mouth full. "Oh, great. They're back already. Hermione, you'd better be right. This had better be working, or I swear I'll do something awful to you." He rose to his feet and hurried over to Lavender. "Missed you," he said, wrapping his arms around her waste and kissing her.

Lavender pulled away gently. "Um... missed you, too, Harry," she said. She looked at Parvati in a way that clearly said, "Help!"

Harry could have burst out into song. He took her hand in his. "So, what else are we going to do today?"

Lavender withdrew her hand. "Well, Parvati and I were going to look through some fashion magazines..."

"Sounds perfect. I'll join you."

"Oh, Harry," Lavender said, her laughter high-pitched and fake, "I'm telling you, you'll be bored out of your mind."

"Anything I do with you is interesting." Harry forced himself to smile, when all he wanted to do was run to the bathroom and throw up.

"Listen, Harry, um... I sort of wanted to spend the day with my friends. I mean... I spent yesterday with you, and..."

"You don't want to be with me?" Harry asked, sounding dejected. "I was hoping we could... um... never mind..." He tried to look downcast.

Lavender bit her lip. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. Um... we can do something later, if you want..."

"Oh, anything you want to do, Lavender." Mentally, Harry's screams were enough to shatter every bit of glass in Hogwarts.

"Okay... we'll talk later, all right?"

Harry nodded. "Perfect." He leaned in to kiss Lavender again, but she backed away. "See you later, Harry," she said, walking away with Parvati. It took all of the strength and willpower Harry had to get himself back to Gryffindor table before he collapsed. "I feel like I've run a marathon," he complained, letting his head rest against Hermione's shoulder.

"Here, mate," Ron said, holding out his goblet to Harry. "Have some pumpkin juice."

Harry gulped the entire thing down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thanks."

Hermione shook her head. "You know, if I didn't share a room with Lavender, I'd say it couldn't be that bad."

"But you _do _share a room with her, and it really _is _that bad," Ron pointed out, emphasizing his point by waving a piece of bacon around in the air.

"Bacon is meant to be food. Not a banner," Hermione said, sipping at her pumpkin juice.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her, then took a vicious bite out of his bacon.

"What's wrong with you two?" Harry asked, praying they wouldn't get into another fight.

"Oh, Ron's been worried about you, and then Hermione got annoyed," Seamus answered, reaching out to take a piece of Ron's bacon. At Ron's glare, Seamus shrugged, then took another when Ron wasn't looking, winking at Harry and pressing his finger to his lips.

"I saw that, you prick," Ron muttered.

Seamus grinned. "I know."

"Oh, go annoy somebody else, Seamus."

"Will do," Seamus said brightly, moving down the table to sit next to Neville and Dean.

"Sometimes I can't stand the little bugger," Ron said, taking a bite of the bacon... that was no longer in his hand. "Seamus!" Ron shouted. Seamus laughed and winked at him, then resumed his conversation with Dean and Neville.

Hermione stared at Ron for a few seconds, then turned to face Harry. "Just hold out for a little longer, hon," she said, patting him on the shoulder.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Since when do you call him 'hon?'"

"Since he needed the reassurance to go pretend to be smitten with someone like Lavender Brown," Hermione retorted. "What, do you want me to call you hon? Sweetie? Sugar? Well?"

Ron shifted in his seat and scratched the nape of his neck. "No, no, that's okay," he coughed.

"I'm going to go sleep or something," Harry said, standing up. "I don't want to be drop-dead tired when I face... ugh." He shuddered, walking away. He'd never hook up with someone just for sex ever again. That is, unless it was Malfoy.

0000

Harry woke up later in the day, feeling even more tired than he had been when he'd fallen asleep. He more or less rolled out of bed, landing sprawled out on the floor and not wanting to move. He still had to break up with Lavender. Or get Lavender to break up with him. And then he thought about why he'd asked her out in the first place. For the millionth time. Why, why, why? Who knew? He certainly didn't. He rose to his feet, stretching, then made his way to the common room. It was only seven. Plenty of time to get the job done. Then he remembered Lavender had said something about a makeover up in the girls' dorm...

Harry ran up the steps two at a time, suddenly wide awake at the prospect of finally getting rid of Lavender. He knocked on the door, and when Parvati answered, he smiled and stepped inside. "Hello, all," he said cheerfully.

Lavender looked somewhat mortified. "Um," she said, clearing her throat, "hello, Harry." She didn't even bother to smile this time. Ha!

"Are you almost finished?" Harry asked. "Because I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk outside before curfew..."

"Harry? Um... me and the girls have been talking..."

"Oh? About what?"

"...Maybe you'd better sit down..." Lavender couldn't meet his eyes. Yay!

Harry sat down on the edge of Lavender's bed, looking at her worriedly. "Is something wrong?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

Lavender withdrew her hand gently. "Yeah. Harry? I... um... I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Harry put on what he hoped was his best hurt and rejected expression. "I... why?" he asked.

"Oh, no, it's not you, Harry!" Lavender said quickly, patting his leg. "I'm sorry... I'm just not ready for a boyfriend right now, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Right... um... I'll go, then," he said, rising slowly and walking to the door, letting his feet drag against the floor. He turned around to face the group of girls. "Good night," he said quietly before exiting the room. As soon as the door was closed, he started jumping around and dancing, singing "Hallelujah" in his head. He was brought slightly out of his reverie when he punched a wall. Turned out stone wasn't very relenting for knuckles during times of enthusiastic relief.

"I'm free!" Harry shouted, practically flying across the common room and landing on the sofa, sprawling out on Ron's lap. "I did it!" He stretched out his arms and legs, grinning from ear to ear. "Hermione's a genius!"

"Well, thank you, Harry," Hermione said sardonically, her lips twisted in a wry smile. "Glad you're happy with the results."

"Now you just have to worry about Lavender telling everyone you're too obsessive," Ron said.

Harry sat up so fast he had to lie down again due to the blood rushing to his head. "What?" he asked, panic on the edge of his voice.

"Nothing, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "Ron's just an idiot."

Harry sat up and put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. "This is horrible," he moaned.

Ron punched him lightly on the back. "Oh, come on," he said. "It'll be all right."

"Then what the hell did you get me all worried for?" Harry snapped.

"I already told you why. He's an idiot." Hermione shook her head disbelievingly at Ron before returning her attention to the book that was on her lap.

"Sorry, mate," Ron smiled apologetically. "It's like Hermione said. You know, I've got an overactive imagination. That's all. Nothing'll happen, okay?"

Harry took a few deep breaths, nodding. "Right. Nothing's going to happen. I'm free. Free. Free. No more Lavender Brown." The trio sat in silence for a few minutes. "You sure?" Harry asked.

0000

Harry lay in bed, staring up at the canopy. He _was _free. Lavender had only been sympathetic, insisting that it wasn't him, personally, that she was rejecting, but the notion of a boyfriend altogether. She had said she couldn't deal with such a commitment just then; that she had to be free to discover herself and do her own thing. Harry hadn't even known Lavender could talk like that, but he didn't say so because then all of his hard work would have been for nothing.

Harry grinned and stretched out, relaxing. Not only was he Lavender-free, the school didn't hate him. It had been a good day. And yet there was some nagging feeling at the back of his head telling him that he wasn't quite free yet...

0000

Harry woke up to a cloudy, rainy Monday. But he didn't mind because he wasn't tied to Lavender anymore. That was bound to keep him in a good mood until he got to Potions. He got dressed, then made his way to the common room. "'Morning," he said to everyone in general.

Ron, who was playing chess with Dean, grinned. "Might want to keep it down," he said, jerking his head in the direction of some of Lavender's friends.

Oh. Right. So he wasn't completely free yet. Great, he had to pretend to be depressed, or at least semi-depressed, for... how long? Agh, Lavender was driving him crazy!

"Check mate," Ron said triumphantly.

Dean merely shrugged. "Knew you were going to win anyway." He stood up and grabbed his books. "Have to get to Potions early if I'm going to convince Snape to let me redo that one thing we were working on last time..." he glared at Seamus, who was playing some sort of card game with some guys from sixth year. Dean shook his head and sighed. "See you later," he said, leaving the room.

Harry flopped onto the couch. "Potions. Did we have any homework for that class?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "We just never got around to doing it yesterday."

"Here," Hermione said, handing Ron her homework assignments.

Both Ron and Harry looked at Hermione, then at each other, then back at Hermione. "Do we have to call St. Mungo's?" Ron asked, reaching out to feel Hermione's forehead.

Hermione smacked his hand away. "Oh, come on. You two were going through enough yesterday. Lavender's exhausting."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"Don't expect this all the time," Hermione said, eyeing them both sternly. "I'm only doing this once. You hear me? This one time, and that's it."

"Right," Ron said. "Okay, so let's get this over with."

"Don't copy the answers exactly," Hermione instructed.

"Of course," Harry replied. "What, do you think we're Hufflepuffs or something?"

0000

Harry experienced the firstbearable Potions of his life. He had walked into the classroom on time... early, actually, since he was still supposed to be feeling somewhat down about being dumped by Lavender... with Hermione and Ron, had turned in homework that was not only complete but bound to be correct since he had copied Hermione's answers, and he'd been partnered up with Pansy. Now, before yesterday morning he might have considered this a bad thing, but, by working on the potion with Pansy, Harry found that she had a rather wry sense of humor, and she really wasn't that dense at all. Well, the only reason Harry had really thought she was shallow was because Lavender had spread rumors. Which he obviously shouldn't have listened to in the first place, since Lavender had told everyone that Christopher Summers had tried to rape her. Which brought them to something they had in common; they both really didn't like Lavender all that much.

When Potions was over, Harry sat through his other classes, becoming more and more bored until he couldn't stand it. So much for freedom. Turned out even the prospect of not being in the clutches of a possessive ditz didn't keep you happy for long.

So, once again, Harry came up with a lame excuse to leave whichever class he was in and made his way to where Malfoy would be. Which was Transfiguration. Harry peered into the classroom, making sure nobody saw him, and willed Malfoy to look up at him. Which he did. Harry pointed down the hall, and Malfoy nodded, letting Harry know he'd be there soon. Harry took off down the hall, ducking inside an empty classroom. He made his way over to the teacher's desk and sat down, waiting for Malfoy.

Malfoy entered the room about five minutes later, closing the door behind him and locking it. He pulled the small curtain that was designed to cover the window in the door closed and turned around to face Harry. "You had everyone about to throw up yesterday," he commented, approaching the desk.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

"That whole display with Brown..."

"Oh, right. Yeah. I even made myself nauseous." Harry shuddered.

"Well, you had everybody else fooled." Did Malfoy sound... no, he couldn't be. "So, are you really up to sex?" Malfoy asked, standing in front of Harry.

Harry recalled his sore muscles. "It's been over a day now," Harry replied. "I could barely even make it up the stairs, thank you."

Malfoy smirked. "No problem, Potter." He sat down on the desk next to Harry. "Ihad trouble,too."

"Really?" Harry asked. Malfoy nodded. "Didn't look like it. You hide it well."

"I know." Malfoy sounded... Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew it had something to do with his life outside of school. He knew from the way he was around his parents that they weren't exactly the model family. Yes, Harry figured Malfoy would have to know how to hide pain. He looked down at his shoes, not wanting to meet Malfoy's eyes. Malfoy reached out and cupped Harry's chin, turning his head to kiss him. "Let's get on with it," he whispered, running the pad of his thumb along Harry's jaw.

"Right," Harry said, standing up and taking off his robes. "Sorry."

Malfoy shrugged and stood up, taking off his own clothes.

Harry tossed his shirt aside and stretched his arms, then set to work unzipping his jeans.

Malfoy had somehow managed to strip before him, and was now collecting all of their clothes and piling them up on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, stepping out of his pants and boxers.

Malfoy took Harry's clothing out of his hands and set them on the floor with everything else. "You said you wanted to find softer surfaces to have sex on."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I did. Right. Okay, then." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "So, who's first?"

"I'm fucking you." Malfoy replied, planting his hands on Harry's hips and pulling him down to floor. He spread out on top of him, kissing him languidly. "Perhaps we should do this behind the desk, just in case someone wants to get in...?"

Harry dug his nails into Malfoy's shoulders. "You try to leave me here and I'll hurt you."

"Promise?" Malfoy asked, his voice low and husky. He kissed Harry again, more roughly this time, then let his hands trail down his arms until they reached his wrists. He grabbed them and spread them out so Harry's arms were stretched out completely, then began licking and sucking at the curve between his shoulder and his neck.

"I swear," Harry moaned, turning his head to better expose his neck, "sometimes I think you're trying to eat me."

"You taste good," Malfoy explained, moving lower so he was sucking at Harry's nipples. "Seriously, if Honeyduke's came up with a 'Harry-flavored' candy, I'd be the first customer." He paused, looking up into Harry's eyes. "Pretend I didn't just say that."

"I didn't hear you say anything," Harry replied, wanting Malfoy to continue what he was doing.

Malfoy nodded and resumed making his way down Harry's body until he reached his cock. "Don't move, and keep quiet," he instructed before he closed his mouth over Harry.

Harry inhaled sharply and arched his back slightly. Malfoy placed one of his hands on Harry's hip, and the other on the inside of Harry's thigh, where he began to trace slow circles with his index finger. Harry spread his legs further apart, and Malfoy took more of Harry into his mouth, still stroking Harry's thigh. Harry bucked into Malfoy's mouth, and Malfoy wrapped his free arm around Harry's waist, elevating him off the floor slightly. When Harry came,Malfoy moved so he was on top of Harry, his arms on either side of him. "Ready?" he asked.

"What are you waiting for?"

Malfoy grinned, then entered Harry roughly, looking at him challengingly, as if daring him to cry out. Harry bit his lip, spreading his legs out even further apart. Malfoy's grin widened, and he began to drive into Harry, slowly at first, but then quickening his pace until they were both struggling to maintain sanity. "If you don't want anyone to hear us," Harry ground out between thrusts, gasping, "then you'd better put up a soundproofing charm."

Malfoy continued to ram into Harry. "Can't stop," he gasped, glancing at the pile of clothes underneath them. "Just cover your mouth or something."

Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy's back and pulled him closer while bending forward to bury his head in the crook of Malfoy's neck. He promptly began to moan, and eventually his moans turned into yells. By the time he was about to climax, Harry was screaming loud enough to wake the dead, and he'd scratched up Malfoy enough with his fingernails to make him bleed. And Malfoy looked like he was being strangled due to his efforts to keep quiet. When they finally came, Malfoy slammed both of his fists into the floor, and Harry screamed something unintelligible into Malfoy's neck, then bit down on his skin. Malfoy gasped and collapsed on the floornext to Harry. Both proceeded to stare at the ceiling with dazed expressions on their faces.

After several minutes at passed, Harry took a deep breath, then coughed out, "Christ."

Malfoy nodded, then rubbed at his neck. "You bit me," he accused, sitting up, "and it's going to hurt to put on clothes for at least a week," he complained, looking at all of the angry, red scratches lining his back. He stood up and looked into the small mirror that was sitting on the desk, then picked it up and held it so he could see his neck. He looked down at Harry. "What are you, a vampire?"

Harry closed his eyes and stretched, grinning. "Maybe," he replied. He propped himself up on his elbows. "And to think I almost gave this up for Lavender."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Harry shrugged. "If I hadn't managed to get rid of Lavender, I wouldn't have had any free time to sneak away for this. She needs to know where her boyfriend is at all times."

Malfoy snorted in disgust. "Well, she's a jealous, possessive bitch." He lifted his hand and studied his fingernails. "No wonder Rob Barrack left her."

"Rob Barrack?" Harry asked, sitting up.

"He was a seventh year Slytherin last year," Malfoy replied, fiddling with some of the tools on the desk. "He dumped Brown right before the school year was over." A grin played at his lips. "He's living in the United States now."

Harry smirked. "He'd have to. If Lavender ever found him..." He shook his head bemusedly. "Why do guys even bother to ask her out?"

"Why did you?" Malfoy asked, intent on the open plan book on the desk.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I thought if you were angry with me, then I wasn't going to get any. And then, for some stupid reason, I decided to ask one of the girls from Gryffindor to go to Hogsmeade with me, thinking if I could get her drunk, I could get her to have sex with me." Harry cringed. "Lavender happened to be the first girl to open the door."

Malfoy looked at Harry. "Why'd you think I was angry with you?"

Harry cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "Well, I sort of left you there a couple of times, and we'd had that fight..."

"Potter, we fight all the time."

Harry started to get dressed. "I know. I guess the lack of sex, or rather, the possibility of not having sex for an undeterminable amount of time, drove me crazy, and my rational thought more or less flew out the window."

Malfoy smirked. "So now we know the side effects of not having sex on a daily basis." He stood up and began to put on his own clothes as well.

"I'll never run away from sex again, I promise," Harry said, holding up his right hand.

Malfoy's lips, which had been curved upward in a grin, straightened. "Right," he said. He finished getting dressed, then crossed the room and unlocked the door, letting the curtain back up. "Come to the common room around midnight."

"Yours?"

"No, Hufflepuff's," Malfoy said sarcastically. "Yes, mine."

Instead of getting riled, Harry smiled, chuckling softly. "Hufflepuff... show of their lives."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it, Potter," he warned. "Besides, we don't even have the password."

"You and I both know we could get it if we wanted it."

"But we _don't _want it, because we're not going to be fucking each other in front of Hufflepuffs."

"Why not?"

"Because it'd be too much fun," Malfoy said, leaving the room. His head poked back around the edge of the door frame a few seconds later. "And we have to have sex in your common room first. It's only obvious." He retreated down the corridor again silently.

Harry shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind him.

0000

And Harry had thought he was home free. Turned out he was still on the outskirts of hell. When Harry went to the Great Hall to eat, Lavender and her sheep kept trying to fix him up with some girl from Hufflepuff. Harry had declined, saying he needed to move on first or it wouldn't be fair to the girl. Whoever she was. Lavender had nodded sympathetically and told him to let her know when he was ready to see someone again. Fat chance. But he'd nodded, and Lavender had kissed him on the cheek. Which he had promptly scrubbed off in the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes.

He was now staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, his cheek reddened from excessive scrubbing. "If there is a God," he said, looking upward, "then Lavender will have taken the hint andwill nottry to throw anymore girls at me." But the feeling in his gut told him Lavender was just too oblivious to take a hint. Maybe he could drown himself in the sink... no, this situation wasn't worth killing himself. Besides, Lavender was pretty much trying to do the job for him.

Harry sighed and left the bathroom,then walked into the Great Hall, making his way over to Gryffindor table and praying he could make it to his friends for support before someone ambushed him about a date.

"Hey, Harry." Some girl from Ravenclaw was suddenly standing right in front of him, twirling her hair.

Shit. "Um, hi," Harry said, not meeting her eyes.

Unfortunately, the girl figured he was just shy and giggled. "How are you doing?"

"Just fine, thank you."

"Oh... um, I was wondering if you'd like to..."

"Look, this is really nice of you and all, but really, I'm fine. I just don't feel like being with anyone right now until I'm sure I'm completely over Lavender."

The girl nodded. "Okay, I understand. See you around, Harry." She walked away, but turned around once and winked at him. Why did Lavender have to be such an idiot? Why had Harry been stupid enough to ask her out in the first place? He had promised he'd never run away from sex again, and he was going to stick to that promise. The consequences were just too much.

Harry sat down next to Ron and put his head in his hands. "I can't stand this much longer," he groaned.

"Here, eat this," Ron said, handing him a cookie.

Harry looked at cookie, then stared at Ron.

Ron blushed and coughed. "Sorry. I just... well, I'm not really sure how to deal with this since, you know, girls don't really throw themselves at me."

Harry looked at the cookie again and took it slowly. "Thanks..."

Ron nodded. "Sorry about all of this."

Harry shrugged in a "what can you do?" way and took a bite out of the cookie. After a few seconds of chewing, he said, "This is pretty good."

"Don't chew with your mouth full," Hermione said, not looking up from the book she was reading. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice, then put it back on the table. Seamus reached out and drank the rest of it. Hermione looked at him disgustedly. "Can't you just drink your own?" she asked.

"I already did."

"So pour yourself some more."

"I can't reach the pitcher," Seamus explained.

Hermione sighed and handed him her plate. "You wouldn't happen to want any of my food, would you?"

"Ooh! Rolls!" Seamus squealed, shoving one of them into his mouth.

Hermione covered his mouth with her hand when he opened it to thank her. "Don't. I get it." She stood up. "I'm going to the library to study in peace." She stalked off.

"What's gotten into her?" Ron asked, staring after her. Harry just shrugged.

"PMS?" Seamus asked, his mouth still partially stuffed with roll. Ron and Harry looked at each other, then shrugged.

0000

By the time Harry went to bed that night, at least half of the seventh year girls and a lot of the sixth and fifth years had tried to "cheer him up." He had almost jammed a fork into his eye, but Ron had noticed the expression on his face and had ushered him out of the room quickly, avoiding any more girls.

And then Harry remembered he was supposed to meet Malfoy. He sprang out of bed and hurried down the stairs to check the clock. He had fifteen minutes to change... he couldn't very well go down to the Slytherin common room in his pajamas, could he?... and get down to the dungeons. He hurried back up the stairs and changed, and was about to leave when Ron woke up.

"Harry?" he called out sleepily. "Is that you? Where are you going?"

"Er... out," he replied, inching toward the door.

"You gonna be back soon?"

"I... I really don't know."

"Is it one of the girls from dinner?" Ron asked, sitting up.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, mortified.

"Oh. Well, have fun, then," Ron said. "I'll wake you up tomorrow if you're still asleep when it's time to go to breakfast."

"Thanks," Harry said before hurrying out of the room.

After tripping over a rug in the common room, ripping his T-shirt by getting it caught on the portrait of the Fat Lady, nearly falling down the stairs to get to the dungeons and losing his shoe in the process, finding his shoe, convincing Sir Cadogen that he didn't need an escort to the Slytherin common room, and literally running into a wall in the dark, Harry reached the portrait covering the entrance to the common room and waited for Malfoy to show up, collapsing on the floor andgasping for breath, dizzy from the collision with the wall.

When Malfoy finally opened the portrait, he looked down at Harry, who was lying spread-eagled on the floor and still panting, and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not even going to ask," he said, taking a step back so Harry enter. He held the portrait open for Harry, who crawled on his hands and knees to the portrait hole and pulled himself up to his feet slowly, falling onto the floor on the other side and sprawling out on his stomach.

Malfoy grinned and straddled Harry, moving his hands up his back slowly. "This is a nice position, actually," he said, playing with the hair at the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry shivered, his hands twitching. "Just give me a minute," he said.

"You feel tense," Malfoy commented, running his index finger from one shoulder blade to the other, "and you can barely breathe. What did you do, run all the way here like hell was after you?"

Harry folded his arms and rested his forehead on them. "Thought you said you didn't want to know."

"Well, now I'm curious," Malfoy replied, massaging Harry's neck and shoulders.

Harry groaned. "For starters, I tripped over that damned rug in the common room, then I ripped my shirt on the stupid portrait of the Fat Lady because she closed too soon."

"So that's what this big tear is," Malfoy said, stroking Harry's skin through the hole. He bent over and kissed it.

Harry shivered again. "Yeah. And falling down the last six steps of the staircase that leads downto the bloody dungeonsand running into a wall didn't help matters."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "That much of a hurry?"

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to get here fast so I wouldn't get caught."

"You _do_ still have your invisibility cloak, right?" Malfoy asked, now massaging Harry's lower back.

"Yeah, but Ron woke up and I panicked. I just wanted to get out of there before he started asking questions." Harry sighed. "If you ever want to do some sort of part-time job, you could definitely be a masseuse." He stretched his arms out in front of him. "Where'd you learn to do this anyway?"

"I... knew... a masseuse once," Malfoy replied, lifting his hands. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, turning his head to look at Malfoy. "What other talents do you have up your sleeve, anyway?" he asked.

Malfoy lifted himself off of Harry so that Harry could turn around, then straddled him again. "I prefer to surprise people with them," he replied, bending over to kiss Harry.

When he pulled away, Harry looked at him, glassy-eyed, for a few seconds. "That little trick you just did with your tongue could get you places," he commented.

"I know," Malfoy said. "Sit up."

Harry sat up, and Malfoy removed his shirt. When Harry made to lie back down, Malfoy wrapped his arms around his waist. "No," he murmured, "stay like this." He kissed Harry again, running his hands up his back slowly. Harry sighed into his mouth and buried his fingers into his hair. Malfoy took one of Harry's hands in his own and sucked on his index finger, then started kissing and sucking a trail up Harry's arm, again making Harry wonder again if he was trying to eat him. When Malfoy reached Harry's throat, he scraped it lightly with his teeth and sucked at it hard with the intention of leaving a mark. Harry moaned in protest and pulled away slightly. Malfoy just tightened his grip on Harry and pulled him closer. "Just returning the favor, Potter," he whispered, craning his neck to show the bruise that Harry had left earlier that day. He licked Harry's neck, then made his way up to Harry's earlobe and bit it gently.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Damn, Malfoy," he groaned, his voice low and raspy. He kissed the mark onthe white-blonde'sneck messily, then smoothed his hair away from his temple and pressed his lips against it. "Sorry about earlier," he apologized.

Malfoy shrugged. "It was either that or having everyone in the damned school hear us." He ran his tongue along Harry's lips, then pushed it past his teeth. Harry moaned and closed his eyes. He didn't care if he hated Malfoy; he was, without a doubt, the best damn kisser in the world. And the best shag. Not that he'd ever tell anyone. Malfoy pulled away. "I almost didn't come down tonight," he said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"You had so many girls hanging on you I was sure you'd found someone else to be with."

"Ugh. Them? Come on, Lavender convinced them that I needed someone right now because I was grieving over my break up with her." Harry shuddered. "What a... ugh."

"I'm sure you were heartbroken," Malfoy said, nipping Harry's jaw.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said sarcastically. "Devastated, really."

"Good thing I was around, then."

"Yeah. Good thing. I was this close to suicide," Harry said holding out his hand and pressing his index finger and thumb close together.

Malfoy smirked. "I'm sure," he replied, lacing his fingers through Harry's. "Think they're still going to be after you tomorrow?" he asked,clasping Harry's other hand.

"Of course they are. I have to be miserable."

Malfoy pressed his forehead against Harry's. "Guess I'll have to be close by, then. Can't have the Golden Boy killing himself, now, can we?"

Harry tensed. "Right," he said, pulling away slightly. He smiled. "'Cause where would the world be, right?"

Malfoy looked at him intently for a few seconds before reaching out and cupping his cheek. "You know I didn't mean that," he said.

"No," Harry said, "but people really do think that way."

"They just need something to turn to, that's all."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Who do you turn to?" Malfoy just shrugged. Harry shook his head. "No, really, what will you do when Voldemort finally gets off of his ass and makes his move?" Fuck the deal; he wanted to know.

Malfoy scowled. "Potter, if you're asking me to 'join your side,' then you'll be sadly disappointed."

"So you admit you'll be fighting against me when the time comes?" Harry asked challengingly.

"I didn't say that, either." Malfoy moved away from Harry, rising to his feet.

"Undecided? How long do you think it will take you to make up your mind?" Harry stood up as well, crossing his arms.

"Who said I'm ever going to choose a side?"

Harry stared at Malfoy for a few seconds, then shook his head. "No one. Sorry, guess I just lost it again. Blame it on those stupid girls. Blame it on the full moon. Blame it on me. Whatever." He made to leave.

Malfoy caught his arm. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Harry turned to face Malfoy. "Back to my dorm," he said.

"Why?"

"Because we just fought... you mean we're still going to have sex?"

"I already said earlier today that we fight all the time. Why should that keep us from having sex?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know." He kicked off his shoes. "Let's get to it then, because I'd like to have at least two hours of sleep tonight."

0000

A/N: And that was chapter nine. Kind of long, wasn't it? Oh, and the reason I wanted you to read this author's note is because this story can go two ways: either there will be a bittersweet ending, or they'll end up together in that love/hate relationship everyone seems to like so much; they can't live with each other, but they can't live without each other either. And I'm undecided right now, so I was hoping if you could possibly review this chapter and let me know what you think. Farewell for now!


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: Hey, everybody! I just decorated the house for Christmas today! Yep, lights and everything. I'd like to specially thank Anaita (love ya, babe!), Lyth Taeraneth, S. Malfoy, Ravenfrog, DuckEyedFool, JWGrey, Flammy, Alex Destine, CtrlAltDelete, Syvixxe, Carrie Anderson, Gryffindorgrl86 (thanks for pointing out my mistakes; I didn't notice them before), pal411, willow, Forsaken163, hi, silvertoekee, ozumas girl, and Demon Rogue 13. Thank you so much for responding to my author's note! If you didn't review, then I'd think my stories weren't worth writing. And now, on with chapter ten! Oh, yeah, any of you heard the song "Kashmir," by Led Zeppelin? If not, you should definitely listen to it somehow...

0000

Chapter Ten

"It started again, claiming a friend

I couldn't be; I've never been"

"Sugarcoat," Breaking Benjamin

Harry woke up on Tuesday morning feeling somewhat sore, but he didn't feel caged or horny anymore. Okay, so maybe he was _slightly _horny, but that was normal. He opened the curtains surrounding the bed and was temporarily blinded by sunshine. When the black dots that were hindering his vision finally disappeared, Seamus' grinning face appeared about five inches away. Harry yelped and fell back onto the bed. "Morning, sunshine," Seamus said, winking. "Sleep well? You look gorgeous..."

"I didn't finish the Charms homework, Seamus," Harry cut in, rubbing at his eyes. Seamus scared the hell out of him sometimes.

Seamus sighed and shrugged. "Thanks anyway, mate," he said before skipping... yes, literally skipping... off to find someone who had actually done the homework. Actually, the only student in all of Gryffindor that could be counted on to finish every homework assignment was Hermione, and she never gave her answers away. Except for when you werebeing put through hell by Lavender, apparently. And Harry hadn't even copied all of the answers. He had been having sex. Outrageous, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex with Malfoy. Harry grinned and got up out of bed.

After getting ready for school, he made his way down to the Great Hall, where Hermione was reading a textbook, Seamus was begging her to give him the answers to the Charms homework, Dean was looking at Seamus with disgust, Neville was trying to get Parvati's attention, and Ron was talking to Willow. Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. Sure, there wasn'ta rulethat saidyou couldn't sit at any of the other tables, but it was uncommon; certain Houses just didn't get along all that well.

Ron looked up. "Harry, saved you a seat," he called, motioning for Harry to sit next to him.

Harry smiled. Ron wasn't saving a seat for him to be nice; he was just nervous around Willow and wanted someone to turn to. He sat down next to Ron and nodded to him, then grinned at Willow. "Morning," he said, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Good morning, Harry," Willow replied. "I just can't get over how good the food is here," she said, reaching for another piece of sausage. "I keep eating the food and thinking, 'Oh, well, it can't get any better than this,' and then it does."

"Yeah, it's good," Harry agreed. He drained his goblet of pumpkin juice, then poured himself some more.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Willow asked, her mouth full.

"Harry doesn't usually eat breakfast unless he has a Quidditch game. Or an exam. Or Hermione makes him," Ron replied, feeling slightly singled out.

Harry understood and gulped down the rest of his juice. "Well, I'd better go up to the library so I can finish my homework," he said, standing up. "See you in a few." He hurried out of the Great Hall and ran up the stairs to the library. When he reached his destination, he found the books he needed, sat down at one of the round tables, and started writing out half-assed answers to the questions Professor Flitwick had assigned the class on Friday.

"Didn't finish your homework? Bad, bad boy," Pansy whispered in his ear. She sat down in the chair next to him.

Harry looked up, surprised that the usual feeling of annoyance that appeared whenhe was incontact with a Slytherin hadn't crept into his gut. "Hey." He resumed scribbling out his answers on parchment.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. "Sexy and articulate," she purred, leaning in closer. She looked down at his work. "Hm." She pursed her lips. "Do you want the answers to that assignment?"

"Why?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Now, Pansy's other eyebrow shot up. After a few seconds, she shrugged. "Actually, I'm not all that sure myself."

"Oh?"

"I'm not sure what happened, but when I saw Brown hanging all over you a few days ago, I couldn't resist pretending to be interested in you... yes, _pretending_," Pansy grinned at him. "However, after that little incident at Hogsmeade, I thought I might like it if I got to know you a little better." She laughed. "And then I knew I'd like you after what you did yesterday to get her to dump you. You've got some brains, Potter. Every other guy that's tried to leave that girl has ended up transferred or worse."

Harry smiled, his cheeks tinted pink. "Actually, that whole thing was Hermione's idea. And you almost dragged me back into that whole damned mess." He mock scowled.

Pansy waved her finger at him. "Almost," she said.

Harry nodded. "It was funny, though. It's way too easy to mess around with Lavender."

"...No kidding," Pansy said, eyeing him pointedly.

Harry blushed. "Hey, it was a stupid move."

"Yeah. I mean, Lavender Brown? You should have come to me." She dropped her voice to a low, husky tone. "I would have been glad to help you out."

Harry's blush deepened. "Um..."

Pansy laughed. "You Gryffindors are so easy."

Harry grinned. "I guess it isn't just Ron, then."

"Who? Weasley? You _do_ know that half the reason we mess with his head is because he's so easy to irritate, don't you?"

"And the other half?" Harry asked.

"Well, in _my_ case anyway," Pansy replied, leaning forward conspiratorially, "he does this awkward, tall, standing thing where he glares at you, trying to look threatening." She smirked. "It's kind of hard to look intimidating, however, when your ears are three shades away from purple, and they're twitching."

Harry laughed. "They twitch?" he asked.

Pansy nodded. "Yes, they do. I swear. It's the funniest thing."

"The next time Ron and I have a fight I'll have to check it out." Harry shook his head, grinning.

Pansy shrugged. "I'll just get him nice and ticked off in Creatures today and you can watch from the sidelines."

Harry fluttered his eyelashes at Pansy. "For me?" he asked flirtateously.

"Ha! Don't kid yourself," Pansy said, punching Harryon the shoulder. "This would be totally for my benefit." She stood up, handing him a piece of parchment. "Here are the answers. I don't need them until tomorrow so you can keep them, but if you lose them, you can count on my making you pay." She glared at him. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Thanks."

"I'd say anytime, but..." She winked at him. "See you later, Potter."

Harry nodded. "Parkinson." He returned his attention to his homework and Pansy's answers. Then he noticed everything he'd written down so far was wrong. Harry silently praised Pansy, then set to work correcting everything.

Ten minutes later, Harry entered the Charms classroom. He was out of breath, but he was right on time. He sat down next to Hermione, noticing that Ron wasn't there. He was about to ask her why, then he noticed him sitting a few seats to the left and back next to Willow. Harry rolled his eyes and fought back a grin. Willow's attention was taken up completely by a book, and she was trying to get Ron to see how interesting it was. And Ron was nodding politely and smiling. Then Willow showed him something on a particular page, and Ron wasn't just being polite anymore. Apparently the Ravenclaw had found something Ron actuallyconsidered interesting. And in a text book, no less.

"Would you look at those two?" Hermione asked, blowing her nose. "They're practically all over each other."

Harry turned to look at her. "Who?" he asked.

Hermione sighed and waved her hand at Ron and Willow. "Them," she replied as if it were obvious. "It's making me nauseous."

Harry patted her shoulder. "I think your nausea comes from actually being sick, dear." At Hermione's raised eyebrow, Harry shrugged. "What, so you can call me hon, but I can't call you dear?" He cringed suddenly, as if just realizing what he'd said. "Then again, 'Mione's just fine."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, it is." She blew her nose again. "I've shown Ron that book before."

Harry draped his arm across Hermione's shoulders. "He was probably just in a bad mood or something." Hermione shrugged, still looking at Ron and Willow. Harry leaned closer to her. "Class has started, Hermione," he whispered into her ear. Hermione immediately sat up straight and focused on Professor Flitwick. Harry had to hold back his laughter, hiding his grin behind his hand. When Flitwick looked at him funny, he coughed and straightened up in his seat.

0000

Harry and Hermione were eating lunch in the Great Hall, or rather, Harry was shoving food mechanically into his mouth while watching Hermione... who was staring at Ron and Willow... pour an entire bottle of salt onto a hard boiled egg. Harry half hoped she'd take a bite out of it. After a while, he just couldn't take it anymore and moved his chair closer to hers. "As Cinderella said, you don't know what you got 'til it's gone."

Hermione turned to look at him, confused. "Cinderella?"

"Not the fairy tale. The band."

"Oh. Sure." She half-turned to continue looking at Ron and Willow, who were laughing about something that was in the book they had been looking at in Charms. After a few seconds, she faced Harry again. "No, it's not that. I mean, Ron was, and still is, a great guy." She glanced over at Ron again. "But, you know, I'm kind of jealous. Not of Willow. Well, okay, a little bit of Willow, but not because she's with Ron. Actually, that's part of it." Hermione sighed in frustration and slammed the salt shaker on the table. "I'm jealous that Ron's found someone before I have. Does that make me a bad person?" she asked, wringing her hands.

Harry shook his head. "No. No, it doesn't. Trust me. I feel the same way." And he did. Sure, he'd had a crush on Cho Chang, but any possibility of a relationship with herhad beendoomed before it had even started. They just weren't cut out for each other. And seeing Ron with somebody that really seemed to like him back... yeah, Harry definitely understood how Hermione felt.

"Really?" Hermione asked, looking, for the most part, relieved.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I guess I'm just better at hiding it than you are." Then again, he'd had practice. And lots of it.

"So, the best thing to do would probably be to quit wasting my time moping about Ron and Willow, and wait for whoever is out there for me instead." Hermione shook her head. "I'm glad he's happy and all. I hope I get to be happy like them, too."

Harry watched Ron and Willow laugh together. "Yeah. You know, I think everybody wants that, 'Mione." He looked at Hermione. "And not many people get it."

"Which is probably why I feel this way."

"Well, if everybody had it, then it wouldn't be so special." Harry sounded slightly bitter. He grinned at Hermione. "Hear that jealousy seeping through?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "That helps. Knowing you feel the same way."

"Well, the only reason I'm not swamping _my _hard-boiled egg in salt is because I know you're sitting there doing it for me."

Hermione looked down at her plate and laughed. "Didn't notice." She looked at Harry again. "I'm assuming that 'don't know what you got' thing is a song by Cinderella?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Do you have it somewhere in your dorm? Because I'd really like to listen to it..."

Harry smiled. "Come on. We've got enough time."

0000

"I am officially a huge fan of Cinderella," Hermione announced, walking out to Hagrid's hut with Harry. "When did you get that CD?"

"Oh, um, at Hogsmeade..." Harry was suddenly very interested in a bird flying overhead. He couldn't very well tell her that he'd knicked it from the pocket of Malfoy's robes while they were having sex, could he?

"Really? Which shop?" Hermione asked. "Because I'd really like to get a copy."

"Oh, well, Dean has one of those CD burners up inour dorm. He could make a copy for you."

"Okay. That'd be great."

"Well, you'll have to ask him."

"Oh. Right. Okay."

Harry kicked at a rock that was on the ground in front of them, sending it skittering off some distance away. "You know, you should ask him to burn the two CDs from Led Zeppelin's 'Physical Graffiti,' too."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Good band?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "Hell, yes."

"I'll do that, then."

"Good. Dean will probably throw in some bonus CDs if you do, too." Harry grinned. "He loves Led Zeppelin." And then Harry suddenly had an idea, and he decided he would ask Dean for a copy as well.

"Hey, Potter," Pansy said from behind them, a fake sneer on her face.

"Parkinson," Harry mock-glared. "Can't find anything better to do than hang around me?"

"Oh, baby," Pansy purred, sidling up next to him, "you're all I think about." Both Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode, who had been walking with Pansy, looked confused.

Harry blushed, but said, "Of course. I'm irresistible."

"Damn straight," Pansy said, nodding and linking her arm with Harry's.

"Sexiest guy in the whole damn school," Millicent giggled, joining in.

Hermione just continued to watch them, wondering what was going on. Harry, noticing her confusion, mouthed, "I'll explain later," to her. Hermione nodded slowly, then mouthed, "Damn straight," imitating Pansy's walk.

"Saw that, Granger," Pansy said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Pansy replied, looking at Hermione. "Good job. Looked just like me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Er... thanks...?"

"Sure."

Millicent giggled again.

0000

Harry was watching Hagrid demonstrate tothe class how to hold some sort of magical creature properly, which basically meant hold the little buggers like this so they couldn't bite your hand off. He was not... _was not_...watching Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know that a strand of Malfoy's hair had fallen into his eyes. He didn't want to walk over and kiss that mark on his neck... which he didn't know was there. Right. It was called denial, and he was knee-deep in it. Oh, Malfoy was wearing his "fuck me" shirt... okay, waist-deep in denial. So he was watching Malfoy. But it was all Ron's fault. Ron had been all over Willow, and Willow had been looking at him with those big eyes with those big eyelashes that kept fluttering like... something that flutters a lot. Yeah, it was all _their _fault. Because after watching the two of them at lunch and listening to Hermione ask him for fifteen minutes why _she _couldn't have something like that, Harry had started to wonder why _he_ couldn't. And there was no reason. So why didn't he have someone like that? And then he'd started to think about who in Hogwarts could possibly hold that certain something for him, and, naturally, he'd thought of Malfoy first. After all, they were having lots of sex. And now Harry was... _not_...looking at Malfoy every few seconds, contemplating the possibilities. And cursing his supposed best friend for confusing him so much.

Harry sighed, then he realized he was still supposed to be listening to Hagrid. Er... which he was. He wasn't thinking about Malfoy. Definitely not. Malfoy was nothing but... a _really _good shag to him. Okay, and last night in front of the fire had been nice... Harry made a noise similar to a growl and clamped his hands on his head, shaking it around a bit. Then he realized the entire class was looking at him. "Um... headache...?"

"You want to go to Madam Pomfrey, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked, tugging at his beard worriedly.

"Er, no, that's okay. I'll be fine." Harry willed everyone to look away. Especially a certain blonde Slytherin who was standing about ten feet away from him, looking unbelievably fuckable... before Harry could stop himself, he smacked himself in the forehead. Hard. He reeled back a few steps, then bent forward, clutching his forehead. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he cursed, dancing around in a circle. "Son of a bitch!" When he straightened up again, he blushed. "It was a bug...?" He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Sure you're all righ' 'Arry?" Hagrid asked.

"Yeah. I'm sure." He cleared his throat. "Promise."

Hagrid nodded slowly, then resumed telling everyone how to handle some weird looking snakelike things with rows of abnormally huge teeth crowding their mouths. Harry sighed and shook his head. He probably had a red mark on his forehead where he had hit it. At least the pain had made him stop thinking about Malfoy... damnit. Couldn't the stupid git just get out of his head? Harry raised his hand. "Hagrid?"

"Yes, 'Arry?"

"Could I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure. Take your time..."

Harry nodded. He turned around and made his way to the castle as quickly as he could. When he was inside the castle, he hurried to the one place where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed. By a living human being, that is.

When he reached the second floor girls' bathroom, he slipped in quietly. "Myrtle?" he called out quietly. When he got no response, he checked each of the stalls. "Myrtle?"

"Oh, Harry, hello," Myrtle said from behind him.

Harry jumped and whirled around. "God... Myrtle, you scared me."

"I was rather hoping I'd scare you to death," Myrtle said, looking downcast. Then again, when did Moaning Myrtle _not _look downcast?

"Er... right," Harry said, repressing the urge to shudder. "Listen, do you think you could keep watch for me?" he asked, trying to sound as polite and nice as possible.

"What for?" Myrtle asked.

"I just have to... think about things," Harry replied. "Oh, and if someone comes, don't let them know I'm in here."

"Okay," Myrtle said, glad to have Harry to herself.

When her back was turned to him, Harry _did_ shudder. A ghost had the hots for him. That wasn't going to get him the happy relationship he wanted. He ducked into one of the stalls and closed the door, then sat on the toilet and lifted his legs up so they couldn't be seen underneath the door. Not that anyone would really come looking for him in the girls' bathroom. Especially with Myrtle lurking around the entrance. He pressed his forehead against his knees and folded his hands over his head, willing the insanity to just fly away and leave him alone.

However, after a few minutes, the thoughts that had brought him to the haunted bathroom in the first place began creeping back. Would he ever feel about someone the same way Ron felt about Willow? It had only been a couple of days, and already Ron and Willow were hanging all over each other. They had even finished each other's sentences in Charms. Scary. Okay, so maybe Harry didn't want _exactly_ what they had, but he wanted something like it. And he wasn't very well going to get it spending all of his time fucking Malfoy or hiding out in girls' bathrooms. And it would get even worse if someone found out his... er... hobbies. Actually, the only person that would probably ever understand his odd behavior was, regrettably, Malfoy, because he was spending his time with Harry and he expected Harry to do offbeat, loony things. So if Harry ever told Malfoy he liked to find himself, or Malfoy caught him, in the girls' bathroom, he'd probably just shrug and start to deduce whether or not they could have sex in the place. Which they probably could. But Harry was sort of against losing himself in this particular bathroom; what if the basilisk had a mate? Not that it'd be able to come out without being called, but still... he wasn't letting his guard down, and that would give Malfoy one hell of a time. Plus, what if Myrtle watched?

Harry sighed and lifted his head up off his knees. He stared at the door for a few minutes for answers, but found that the door of a bathroom stall wasn't really all that inspiring. All he came up with was the fact that he'd probably die lonely. He just hoped he wouldn't have a lot of cats. A house full of cats seemed to be the definitive of a lonely life. And if he was going to find someone to love, it probably wasn't going to be Malfoy. What they had now was simple; they had sex. Lots and lots of sex. No strings attached. And staying together after school was over would be rather stringish. Did Malfoy even want a relationship? A real relationship? Silly question; who didn't? But did Malfoy want a relationship with Harry? Malfoy probably wouldn't want to have anything to do with Harry after school was over. Well, there'd be the war with Voldemort, but their meeting up on the battlefield was rather sketchy; there were going to be a lot of people fighting in that war.

Well, until the time came for them to leave each other, they'd keep having sex. And Harry would keep wondering who and wherehis "soul mate" was. And he'd continue to drown himself in his denial and believe he actually _had _a soul mate.

0000

Harry "forgot" about the rest of his classes for the day, going to his dorm instead. He had something he needed to get, and then he had tofind Malfoy. He didn't usually bring anything but himself to their "meetings," but Hermione had inadvertently managed to put an idea in his head, and he just couldn't get it out.

When he reached his dorm, he hurried over to Dean's trunk and began rummaging through it, looking for a particular CD. When he found the one he was looking for, he grinned and stuffed it in the pocket of his robes before exiting the room and making his way downstairs.

Harry walked over to where Hermione was sitting, picked up a roll, signaled to Malfoy, exited the Great Hall, and entered the hidden room nearby. He had already set everything up, so now all he had to do was wait for Malfoy. He was only trying something out, that was all. It wasn't like it meant anything.

When Malfoy entered the room, Harry nodded, then pulled Malfoy over to sit on a chair. "What's going on?" Malfoy asked. Not that he was nervous or anything; occasionally they did some sort of... activity... along with sex.

Harry shrugged. "Just wanted to try something out. Let me know what you think." He pulled out his wand, soundproofed the room, then walked over to a portable stereo and pressed the "play" button. Slow, grinding rock music filled the room.

Malfoy leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs. "Hmm... what's this?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Kashmir," Harry replied, taking off his robes.

"Sounds... fuckworthy."

"I know," Harry said, approaching Malfoy. "Okay, you know how I could only do what you told me to do a couple of days ago?" he asked.

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

"Same goes for you now." And with that, Harry straddled Malfoy on the chair, burying his fingers into his hair and kissing him deeply. He moved his lips to Malfoy's jaw, to his ear lobe, to his temple, to his forehead. Then Harry let his hands trail down to Malfoy's shoulders, pushing his robes off slowly. Malfoy shrugged out of them completely, and then Harry set to work on the buttons of Malfoy's shirt, sucking at each individual patch of skin as it was exposed and grinding against Malfoy in time with the music. Malfoy moaned and rested his head against the back of the chair. "I just might learn to like this song," he murmured, inhaling sharply when Harry licked the area right above his navel.

"It's a good song," Harry purred, running his hands up Malfoy's chest slowly, then digging his nails into Malfoy's shoulders and pulling himself up to kiss him again, hard this time. He moved his hands along Malfoy's arms until his shirt came off, then grabbed Malfoy's wrists and moved them so Malfoy's arms were wrapped around the back of the chair. He started sucking and biting at Malfoy's jaw, making his way down to the bruise on his neck, then back down his chest until he reached the waistline of his pants. He then let go of Malfoy's arms, still moving in time with the music, and undid the pants, pushing himself up with his legs so he could remove them. Then he grinned at Malfoy sexily and kissed him again, biting his lip gently. "I really do like this song," Malfoy stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiled, then shook off his own robes, still grinding against Malfoy slowly. Then he removed his shirt, making sure he moved in a way that showed off his muscles, and tossed it away. He pressed himself up against Malfoy, licking a trail from one shoulder blade to the other. "I like it, too," he murmured, rubbing his hips against Malfoy before reaching down to undo his pants. He stood up and took them off quickly, then re-straddled Malfoy, resuming his movements. He kissed Malfoy thoroughly, then pulled away, running his thumb along Malfoy's cheekbone. "The CD belongs to Dean."

"Thomas?" Malfoy asked, closing his eyes. "Get a copy," he commanded, groaning when Harry moved against him in a particular way.

"Already planned to," Harry replied. He sank down to the floor so he was on his knees, then grabbed Malfoy's hands and pulled him down to the floor so he was kneeling in front of him. "The good thing about this song," Harry said, his lips moving against Malfoy's ear as he ran his hands up his arms, "is that it's fairly long." He pressed his hands into Malfoy's back so they moved closer together. "So we can take our time." He pushed at Malfoy's chest until he was lying on his back, then spread out on top of him.

Malfoy folded his hands behind his head. "We're about to have sex on a hard surface again."

"I figure it's worth it," Harry replied, moving his hips against Malfoy's again.

Malfoy moaned softly. "Yeah, okay, it's worth it."

Harry grinned, entering Malfoy slowly. Malfoy arched back, inhaling sharply. Harry wriggled around to fit inside Malfoy better, making him groan and spread his legs wider. Then he began to thrust into him slowly, still keeping time with the music.

After a while, Malfoy groaned impatiently and bucked up into Harry, trying to speed up the process. "I'm starting to not like this song so much," he complained. Then Harry did something rather amazing with his tongue, and Malfoy gasped. "Then again, it's really not so bad."

Harry laughed. "It'll get better. I promise."

A few minutes later, Harry was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and Malfoy was face down on the floor, shaking his head. "Mrfufifuf," he said.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at his fingernails.

Malfoy rolled over onto his side. "I said I love that song."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Suddenly it appeals to me much more." He pretending to frown. "However, whenever I hear it from now on, I'm going to think of sex."

Malfoy shrugged. "So?" He flipped over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. "Got any more songs that are fuckworthy?"

"Sure. But I'm saving them for another time." Harry sat up and scratched his shoulder.

"So what are we supposed to do in the mean time?" Malfoy asked.

"We can play the song again," Harry suggested.

"Great. This time I get to be on top."

Harry stood up and walked over to the stereo, setting up the song again.

0000

Harry finally made it to his dorm at two in the morning, placing Dean's CD in his trunk after making sure he inserted a "thank you" note inside. He walked over to his bed and flopped onto the mattress, wincing when the springs squeaked in protest to his weight. Ron muttered something and Seamus turned over onto his other side, but nobody woke up. Harry sighed in relief and rested his head on the pillows, not bothering to close the curtains around his bed.

The night had most definitely not been dull. And Harry had been telling the truth about what he'd think of the song now; whenever he heard "Kashmir," he would now think of sex. Hot, slow, torturous sex that seemed to go on forever, but end too soon. Malfoy had made sure to show Harry exactly how he had felt when Harry had been on top. And then Harry had insisted on revenge by fucking Malfoy all over again. And then, of course, Malfoy had to avenge himself. And it had gone on that way until the CD had started skipping and Harry had looked at his watch. Malfoy had then grunted in protest and told Harry to never wear the "cursed piece of Muggle-invented shit" ever again. But Harry knew Malfoy hadn't really meant it; without a watch, they'd keep at it until morning, and then they'd have a lot to explain when a teacher or student found them. Or a ghost, but they weren't likely to say anything. But if Peeves popped in on them... Harry was thankful that Peeves had never shown up.

Harry rolled over onto his side, immediately regretting the action; he could practically hear his bones creaking in protest. He wasn't even out of his teens and he was already getting sore after having sex. Then again, it wasn't like Malfoy was gentle or anything. But Harry had found, ever since the deal, that he didn't like gentle. Anybody he had had sex with before the deal had been awkward around him both during and after, and they always insisted on going slowly, wanting to prolong the experience. Ithad beenbloody annoying. Sure, Harry liked to drag everything out as long as he could, but he also liked to _feel _something. Whenever anyone, before Malfoy anyway, had said "let's go slowly," they meant, "move so slow it takes fifteen damned minutes just to get our clothes off, and be so fucking gentle I can't feel anything." Every time Harry had had sex with someone before Malfoy, he had been tempted to walk out in the middle of it all and just wank off in his room.

But then Malfoy had come up to him secretly during the winter formal, and ever since then they'd been having sex every night. And in between. And Harry had found that he just couldn't stop. When it came to Malfoy, that is. Anyone else was boring and troublesome. Harry had to actually think about what he was doing. But with Malfoy, it was all intuition. Which was peculiar, to say the least. Did Malfoy feel the same way? He must have been bored before, or he wouldn't have approached Harry in the first place. Right?

Harry sighed and punched his pillow. Everything was so confusing. And he'd thought that things would start to sort themselves out by his seventh year. He'd basically grown up at Hogwarts believing that all Slytherins were cheating, conniving, sneaky, back-stabbing bastards. Then Malfoy had approached him about the deal, and he hadn't told the _Daily Prophet _or anything like that, and he wasn't demanding anything more than the terms they had agreed on. And Pansy and Millicent seemed like truly decent people, even if they were a bit dark and twisted in an amusing kind of way. Harry was able to joke around and flirt with them in a way he couldn't with his fellow Gryffindors. They also gave himan alternativeperspective. Which was nice, to say the least.

And then Harry wondered why it had taken him nearly seven years to find out that the Slytherins, while definitely having a different outlook on life from the Gryffindors, were, ultimately, just as... people-ish as he was. But he couldn't ever tell any of his housemates that; they'd think he was crazy. Except, maybe, Hermione. She had seemed okay when he'd talked to Pansy and Millicent. But if she found out what he was doing with Malfoy... she'd probably just stupefy him and send him off to St. Mungo's without delay. And Harry wondered why he bothered with Malfoy, too. They didn't usually say much to each other outside of what needed to be said, except for when they were fighting. But lately... Harry groaned in frustration and shifted his position. It didn't matter if they were actually having decent conversations; they would never be anything more to each other than a means to forget whatever it was that they were running away from.

0000

Yes, this chapter was _much _shorter than the last one. But there really wasn't much else to say. Poor Harry. He's so confused, isn't he? Oh, and I've decided what the ending's going to be. Thank you for your input! I'll bet you thought I was going to tell you what I've chosen, didn't you? Come on, I'm not that nice. I will tell you this though, if I don't like the way my chosen ending turns out, I'll probably post another chapter with an alternate ending so you can decide which one you like better (kind of like those DVDs...). Thank you for reading, and review, please!


	11. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took awhile, but first I lacked inspiration (you should thank Anaita if you like this story, because I read a couple of her fanfics and they "got me in the mood" to write this chapter. Luv ya, Anaita!), then I couldn't get my computer to work like it's supposed to, and then I couldn't log on to the website. Maybe this is some sort of sign. Maybe I'm supposed to stop writing this fic. If so, screw fate. I'd also like to give a special thanks to Lyth Taeraneth for her input. Oh, and you know how the last couple of chapters have more or less been in Harry's point of view? Well, as of chapter twelve (next chapter), it'll be in Draco's again. And finally, for those of you who are pissed off with the withdrawing, "angsty" Harry, you might want to skip this chapter. For those of you who either really like drama, or don't really care, go ahead and read on (if you want to).

0000

Chapter Eleven

"Beneath this wave, I just can't take your breath away"

"Next To Nothing," Breaking Benjamin

Harry woke up the next morning feeling rather groggy, to say the least. In fact, when he entered the common room to make his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron took one look at him and sent him back up to their dorm. He must have looked absolutely terrible, because even Hermione had agreed with Ron, saying she'd get Harry's homework assignments for him. Joy. Homework was what mattered most to Harry. He slipped back underneath the covers, waiting for everyone to go downstairs for breakfast, then class. When he was sure everyone was gone, he put on his invisibility cloak and left the tower, wandering around the corridors aimlessly.

After nearly two hours he'd covered all of the territory that made up Hogwarts, with the exception of the grounds outside since rain was pelting the earth viciously. Realizing he was hungry, he made his way to the kitchens and tickled the pear in the portrait. He entered the kitchens, said hello to the elves, and left with an armful of food. He ate slowly, and when he was finished he found that he was extremely bored. On most occasions this would have been a reason to go see Malfoy. But Harry didn't want to see him. For some reason, Harry currently didn't want anything to do with Malfoy. And it wasn't because he was having a rather difficult time walking, either. No, it was because... well, he wasn't even really sure why. All he knew was that he was feeling... strange... and meeting up with Malfoy would probably only make things worse.

Harry snorted in disgust. He was absolutely pathetic. Since when had he been afraid to see Malfoy? Well, actually, he'd been avoiding him to a certain extent for the past couple of days. Something was going on, and it was starting to really piss him off. But at the same time, he felt... something. Something he couldn't really place. Something he was sure he'd never felt before. And it scared him. Scared him so much it made him nauseous.

Knowing he had to break the silence or go insane, Harry hurried up to his dorm and pulled out a stack of Dean's CDs. Soundproofing the room, he pushed play and turned up the volume on the stereo until Korn's "Trash" threatened to bust the speakers and shatter the windows. But it did little to make Harry feel better. If anything, it made things worse.

0000

Harry continued to eat slowly, keeping his eyes on his plate so he would not have to look up and see Malfoy trying to signal to him without drawing everyone else's attention. And to ensure that nobody would try to talk to him during dinner, Harry had borrowed Dean's portable CD player and turned up the volume until all he could hear was Deftones' "Minerva." And he pretended not to notice the worried glances coming from Ron and Hermione.

And then Harry made a mistake; he looked up briefly to grab his goblet of pumpkin juice. And accidentally looked at Malfoy, who was still trying to catch his attention. And before he knew what he was doing, Harry nodded. Which meant there was nothing for him to do but go and meet Malfoy for more sex. Which should have been a good thing. So why did he feel like his insides had spilled out?

He waited until the song that was playing was over, then stood up and made his way out of the Great Hall, pretending he couldn't see Hermione's lips calling out his name. Harry entered the hidden room next to the suit of armor, Deftones still blaring into his ears. Malfoy was waiting on the other side, his clothes already off. And Harry saw his lips moving. He stopped the CD and took off the headphones. "What?" he asked, removing the hooded sweatshirt he had put on to fight the draftiness of the castle.

"You look like you have something on your mind," Malfoy repeated patiently. He moved toward Harry slowly. "You want me to help make it go away?"

Harry repressed a smirk. "I don't think you can," he said, too softly for Malfoy to hear.

"What?" Malfoy asked, lifting Harry's T-shirt over his head.

Harry sighed. "You can try."

Malfoy looked at him, a funny expression on his face. "Right."

And then Harry was up against the wall with his pants down, and Malfoy was sucking him off. Harry closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to link with his body, toacknowledge the pleasure his body was feeling. It was times like these when Harry was jealous of Malfoy. They both seemed to be able to disconnect their minds from their bodies. The difference was that Malfoy seemed to send his mind completely away and link with his body, and Harry just found himself completely absorbed with his thoughts while his body experienced temporary pleasure.

Malfoy grunted and shoved him against the wall, and then Harry was finally able to connect with himself. And he knew Malfoy wouldn't be happy about the wait. And he was right; Malfoy wouldn't let him come for an almost unbearable period of time. But when he finally did, he felt better. A little better. "Thanks," he said, sinking to a sitting position on the floor.

"It's part of the deal," Malfoy replied quietly. "And now it's my turn."

Harry nodded. "What do you want?"

"Fuck me," Malfoy replied simply.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Malfoy slowly, wanting to make him pay and trying to get into what they were doing at the same time. What was wrong with him, anyway? He'd never felt like this before, so why start now? He scraped his nails lightly over Malfoy's chest, willing himself to enjoy the shiver that ran through Malfoy's body. He placed his hand on the nape of Malfoy's neck and buried his fingers into his hair, teasing his nipple with his other hand.

Malfoy sighed and let his head fall back, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. But instead of dissipating, the nausea Harry had been feeling all day just worsened. Until he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled away from Malfoy and rose to his feet quickly. "I..." he trailed off and ran his hand through his hair. "I have to go," he said, grabbing his jeans and putting them on hurriedly.

Malfoy more or less sprang to his feet. "What?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. "What do you mean?"

Harry continued to throw his clothes on haphazardly. "I have stuff to do."

"Yeah, like finish up your half of the deal." Malfoy's voice had a distinct edge to it.

"I owe you, okay?" Harry couldn't quite keep the snappishness out of his tone. He opened the room and left, not bothering to look back at Malfoy. He could practically feel his glare burning through him.

Harry ran into the girls' bathroom and almost missed the toilet when he threw up, losing the small amount of food he'd managed to consume that day. After a minute or so of dry-heaving, he exited the stall, temples throbbing, and stumbled over to the sink. He turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water, swishing the bitter taste of bile out of his mouth. Then he turned off the water and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a different person. His hair was wilder than usual and matted with sweat, his eyes were bright, and his skin was pale with an almost greenish tinge to it. And he was shaking violently. "What's wrong with me?" he asked his reflection, his voice trembling.

"Harry?" Myrtle asked from behind him. "What happened?" She reached out and held her hand right next to his hair, moving it back and forth as if she were stroking it.

Harry, instead of jerking away, found that her hand sent a cool sensation through him. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the mirror.

"Harry?" Myrtle asked, still "stroking" him.

"I..." Harry choked on his words.

"Oh, Harry."

A sob escaped Harry's lips, seeming to tear out of his throat. He dropped to the floor, turning so he was crouched in a fetal position with his back to the wall. And then he started to cry, shaking violently. Myrtle knelt beside him, running her hand over his hair.

0000

Harry woke up, feeling heavy, his head throbbing. When he tried to roll over onto his side, he realized he was laying on a rather hard, cold surface. And his limbs were more than slightly stiff. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

"Watch your head," Myrtle warned, pointing at the sink above his head.

Harry looked at her for a few seconds, confused, then remembered he'd fallen asleep in the bathroom. He smiled at Myrtle shakily, running a hand through his hair. "You aren't going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

Myrtle shook her head. "You looked like you needed to cry."

And then Harry realized that he really had needed to do just that. Cry. About his forced destiny. About the death of his parents, Cedric, and Sirius. About how he'd been feeling since sixth year. About... about the deal. And Malfoy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Myrtle asked. "I felt absolutely dreadful about what happened to me, and after I told you about it I felt much better."

Harry shook his head. "No, you've done enough."

Myrtle nodded. "You shouldn't go back to your dorm looking like that, though. Your friends will be worried. I won't try to make you talk, but I think they might."

Harry stood up and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Myrtle was right; he looked like shit. His eyes were puffy from crying, his nose was red, and his hair was mottled and limp. "Ugh," he said, his nose stuffy. He turned on the tap again and splashed his face, trying to wake himself up. When he was done, he studied his reflection again and grimaced. If anything, he looked worse. And now his sweatshirt was splotched with water.

Myrtle eyed him sympathetically. "You can stay here tonight if you want to."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "No, thanks. I've spent enough nights out of the dorm. If I stay away much longer, my friends will start getting worried and stuff." He also didn't feel entirely comfortable spending the night in the girls' bathroom. He shrugged. "Thanks for being nice, Myrtle."

A grin played at Myrtle's lips. "Any time, Harry."

Harry tried to smile back at Myrtle, but his attempt came pathetically short. "See you." And he left the bathroom, his hands shoved in the pocket of his sweatshirt. It was then that he remembered he'd left Dean's CD player in the hidden room downstairs. He grunted in frustration and hurried to the room across from the Great Hall, looking at his watch impatiently when the wall seemed to take forever to open. When he could finally fit inside, he rushed in and searched the room hurriedly. It wasn't there. "Malfoy took it, then." Harry inhaled deeply and exited the room, shaking his head. He punched the wall lightly on the way up the stairs to his dorm. He'd have to ask Malfoy for the player back. And Malfoy probably wouldn't give it back to him, because Malfoy was most likely cursing his name.

Entering the common room, Harry debated sleeping on the couch, then decided it would be better to just deal with his roommates; if he slept on the couch, he'd have to deal with Hermione in the morning. He entered the dorm and braced himself for an interrogation. And was surprised when he didn't receive one. Ron merely asked, "How are you feeling, mate?" and then dropped the subject when Harry shrugged in reply. Seamus didn't even annoy him too much. And when he told Dean that another friend had borrowed the CD player, he said it was okay and he didn't ask which friend had borrowed it. But instead of making Harry feel relieved, he felt worse; his friends were deliberately avoiding the subject because they wanted to make Harry feel better.

Harry flopped onto his bed without bothering to change his clothes and closed the curtains. He heard everyone else moving around, getting ready for bed. He heard Neville get in bed and closehis curtains, then Ron, then Seamus... with his signature bounce, making the springs creak in protest... and finally Dean, who pressed play on his stereo first so that Pink Floyd's "Dark Side Of The Moon" filled the room softly. Harry silently thanked him; he wouldn't have been able to handle the silence.

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Harry left Divination, listening to Ron complain about how there were only so many times he could predict his death before his scenarios became unbelievable. Then Dean said something about that not being possible because Professor Trelawney would believe any prediction you made as long as you died somehow. And then Seamus was telling everybody about what he would "see" happening to him next time. Harry had to admit it was perfect; dramatic, yet simple enough to be believable.

They entered the Great Hall for lunch, sitting down at Gryffindor Table. Harry found that he was actually hungry for once, so he grabbed a sandwich. When he was about halfway finished eating, he glanced in the direction of Slytherin Table and saw Malfoy sitting there, his plate empty, with Dean's CD player. Harry, while relieved that Malfoy had it, also felt apprehensive about getting it back. That is, if Malfoy _would _give it back to him after what he'd done to him the night before. He contemplated signaling to Malfoy, then realized he wouldn't be able to get his attention without getting everyone else's as well. So he waited for an opportunity to catch him alone. Which came when Malfoy stood up and left the Great Hall.

Harry hurried after him, telling his friends he had to go to the bathroom, and caught up with him by the staircase that led down to the dungeons. "Malfoy," he called out, jogging up to him.

Malfoy turned around slowly, his face devoid of any emotion. "Yes?"

"Um, that CD player..." Harry said, motioning toward Dean's player.

"What about it?" Malfoy asked. The expression on his face was now decidedly irate. Not good.

"It's Dean's," Harry replied stupidly as if that would clear things up.

"So? What does that mean to me?" Malfoy asked, turning around and walking down the stairs before Harry could say anything more.

"That didn't go very well," Harry said to himself. Then again, what else could he have expected? He'd been doing a lot of stupid things recently, and Malfoy had finally had enough. That shouldn't have bothered him so much, since the deal was supposed to be impersonal, but when Harry felt his stomach twist into knots, he knew that the knowledge of this didn't really help matters.

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Harry was more or less sprinting along the dungeons, late for Potions yet again. Which meant Snape would take the customary ten points from Gryffindor. Son of a bitch. He was only a little way away from the classroom when he was grabbed from behind byhis robes and yanked intoa nearby supply closet. He hunched over for a few seconds, catching his breath... apparently running like a bat out of hell and then getting the wind knocked out of you via mild strangulation took a lot out of you... before he looked up to see who had literally sent him flying. "Malfoy?" he asked, both hopeful and nervous. You just never knew when it came to Malfoy.

"We'll have to move fast," Malfoy said. Harry only continued to stare at him. Malfoy stared back at him for a few seconds before saying, "I can say I overslept, and you can just not show up or something. Because if we both go to class late, that will look suspicious. Unless we make it look like we were fighting. But either way, you could start any time now."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sex. You owe me sex. Or a blow job. As long as it gets the job done..."

"You... what?" Harry asked, knowing there was something going on, but not quite able to comprehend the situation.

Malfoy looked like he was ready to smack himself in the forehead. He reached out and undid Harry's robes, then his pants. Harry just stared down at Malfoy's hands, still trying to figure out what was happening. "Er..." he said, trailing off when he felt Malfoy's touch through his boxers. Malfoy grasped Harry's chin with his other hand and lifted it up so they were eye to eye. "Potter, fuck me," Malfoy commanded before dropping down to the floor.

Well, that worked well enough. Harry got down on his knees and moved to straddle Malfoy. He kissed Malfoy, entering him simultaneously; better to get the job done before he lost his nerve again.

Malfoy moaned and closed his eyes, arching his back and spreading his arms out. "Make it fast," he said.

Harry nodded, thrusting into him. Malfoy inhaled and opened his eyes, looking directly into Harry's. And Harry found that there was something very compelling about Malfoy's eyes. And when Malfoy came, Harry saw... something in them. It was almost as if, for just an instant, the eyes that Harry had believed were two chunks of ice had melted. Why hadn't he noticed that before when they'd had sex? Because it had never been there before. And then he came, collapsing onto the floor beside Malfoy.

A few seconds later, Malfoy rose to his feet and began getting dressed. Harry stayed where he was, waiting for his breathing to slow down and return to normal. But when he heard the doorknob squeak as Malfoy turned it, he forced himself to sit up. "Wait," he said softly.

Malfoy closed the door quietly. "What?" he asked. Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy interrupted him. "I've told you before that arguing doesn't affect the deal."

"Um, I was just going to ask about the CD player," Harry said, half-lying. He had wanted to know why Malfoy was still bothering to look at him, but he hadn't planned on asking him about it.

Malfoy looked down at the floor. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "It's in my dorm. I'll give it back later."

"When?" Harry asked.

"Tonight." And with that, Malfoy left the room quickly.

Harry could sense that something had just happened between him and Malfoy, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.

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A/N: That's the end of chapter eleven. I warned you about Harry's being stupid. Actually, while I was writing this, I was thinking, "God damnit, Harry! Snap out of it, you idiot!" But don't worry; there are several more chapters to go, and one of them is about to crack very, very soon.


	12. Chapter Twelve

A/N: Hello everybody! Eight more days until Christmas vacation! And my gift to you is a semi-speedy update (compared to the time it took to post chapter eleven. Once again, thank you, Anaita, for saving the story!). This chapter's in Draco's perspective. And the next two chapters will be in Harry's again. Sorry, that's just the way it has to be. Or rather, I want it to be that way, and I'm the author. And one final note: I know I said I wouldn't quote songs DURING THE ACTUAL STORY, but that's going to change for this chapter. But it won't be any of Breaking Benjamin's songs. Thank you very much, reviewers! Here's chapter twelve!

Disclaimer: The songs I used in this chapterare "Change (In The House Of Flies)," by Deftones, and "Trash" and "Make Me Bad," by Korn. And yes, I know Harry listened to "Trash" in another chapter, but Draco's listening to it in this chapter for the first time, so...

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Chapter Twelve

"And I want an end 'cause I feel you creeping in"

"Breakdown," Breaking Benjamin

Of course Potter was late; he was incapable of being anywhere on time. Draco sighed and turned up the volume of the CD player. He was listening to some mixed CD that Potter had said belonged to Thomas. He didn't know who the band was, but as far as he could tell, he didn't really feel like giving the CD back. He was contemplating taking out the CD when Potter entered the room. Damn.

"Sorry," Potter apologized, tossing his invisibility cloak into a corner of the room.

"So you actually remembered it this time," Draco drawled, removing the headphones. "What band is this?" he asked, waving the CD player.

"Deftones," Harry replied.

"Right. So, what's that one song that goes, 'I get all numb when she sings it's over...?'" he asked, handing Potter the player.

Potter looked at him strangely for a second, shoving the player into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "'Minerva.' Good song."

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "What about that one that goes, 'I watched a change in you...?'"

"'Change.' That's my favorite," Potter replied. "You know, you don't sing too bad."

"I was in the choir for three years," Draco said before he could stop himself.

"Choir? When?"

"Before I came to Hogwarts. Don't tell anyone."

"Don't worry. Maybe I'll want to blackmail you in the future," Potter replied.

Draco snorted. "And I thought Gryffindors didn't do dishonorable things like blackmail."

Potter smirked. "Well, you never know..." He crossed his arms. "Is it just me or is it cold tonight?"

"Potter, you've got to be roasting in that sweatshirt. Who's the band on your shirt, anyway?" Draco asked, moving forward to rub his hands up and down Potter's arms.

"Korn. Don't stop."

Draco moved his hands faster. "Are they good?"

"Yeah. Big on anger, abuse, and sex."

"Hm. Sounds worth listening to." Draco stopped rubbing Potter's arms and stepped back, taking off his clothes. When Potter didn't make a move to follow suit, Draco eyed him pointedly.

"What, you expect me to take this off when I'm already freezing?" Potter asked incredulously.

Draco rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Potter's waist. "You'll be warm soon, anyway."

"Promise?" Potter asked, leaning in closer to Draco and shivering.

"Yeah," Draco replied, not sure why he suddenly had trouble breathing.

"Okay." Potter moved away and strippedoff his clothes quickly, then moved back into the circle of Draco's arms. "Move fast," he said.

Draco smirked and kissed Potter languidly on the corner of his mouth. "And here I thought we'd take it slow again tonight..."

Potter smacked Draco's arm. "Then there will be no sex at all."

"I was joking, Potter."

"It's hard to tell with you."

"Keep you guessing?"

"Yes."

"You like it?"

"What do you think?" Potter retorted, scowling. "And I'm still cold."

Draco pressed his hips against Potter's, then drew him to the floor. "We'd be able to move faster without conversation..."

Potter's response was to reach up and clamp Draco's face with his hands and pull him down to kiss him roughly. Draco moaned in both surprise and excitement, moving his hands slowly up and down Potter's torso. Potter shivered and tangled his hands into Draco's hair, then tugged slightly. "Hurry up."

Draco laughed and teased Potter for a few seconds with his cock before finally entering him. Potter's breath hitched and he tensed, closing his eyes. After another few seconds, he opened his eyes and glared at Draco. "So, is it going to get any further than this?"

Draco drove into Potter again, shutting him up, and kissed his neck, then made sure he left a mark there. There was something about knowing he was the reason Potter slouched in order to hide his neck with his shoulder that drove him wild. Potter groaned when he pulled away, bucking his hips to meet Draco's thrusts. Draco inhaled slowly, taking in the sight of Potter underneath him. There really was something about Potter that excited him. He wasn't sure what it was. It couldn't just be sex appeal; he knew people that had plenty of sex appeal and he hadn't really given them a second glance after he'd fucked them. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was about Potter that made him stop and take notice. Come back for more. It was frustrating. Draco thrust violently into Potter, making him gasp. Of course, this only served to excite Draco even more until finally they were both gasping and clinging to whatever sanity they had left,then comingand throwing that sanity straight out the window. And then Draco froze, looking down into Potter's eyes. He couldn't have just done what he thought he'd done... and then the look on Potter's face told him that he had. He had just said Potter's name. Not Potter... Harry. He had just fucking screamed Potter's name! Draco shot to his feet and dressed so quickly he wasn't even sure he put his clothes on in the right places, let alone if they were actually his, and sprinted out of the room, ignoring Potter's protests.

What the fuck had just happened? Okay, so he knew what happened. What he wanted to know was why it had happened. How had it happened? What had possessed him to scream... agh, the horror of it all. And Potter had to be in that room, absolutely terrified. This completely blew Potter's previous mistakes clear out of the water. The deal was supposed to be impersonal. And names were very personal. People always took them for granted, but they signified something close. And Draco had never addressed Potter as just plain... Harry... before.

Draco hurried into the common room and leaned against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and willed his breathing to slow to normal, his heart to stop beating rapidly enough to burst out of his chest. It took several minutes for him to be able to breathe normally. His mouth felt extremely dry, and his palms were cold and clammy. And then he knew he was going to throw up. He dove across the room and stuck his head into the wastebasket just in time. He prayed silently that no one would hear. When he stopped heaving, he rose to his feet shakily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He made his way to the fireplace and stopped in front of one of the stones in the wall right next to it. He dug his fingers into the crevice between that stone and another, then began to shift it back and forth until it slid out slowly onto the floor. He reached into the cavity it left behind and pulled out every single last bit of alcohol that Blaise had hidden there; after Draco's mishap with the whiskey, Blaise had been very protective of his stash. He unscrewed the cap of one of the bottles of vodka he had in his arms and took a deep swig to wash away the sour taste in his mouth. Then he took another drink. And another. He plopped down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, not bothering to put the stone back into the wall.

Draco stared into the flames that were leaping up in the fireplace, mesmerized by the changing patterns they made. Every time he saw Potter's face, Potter's eyes, or anything that was Potter, he took a deep swig of vodka. Which was probably why he finished the entire bottle in five minutes. Not good if you didn't want a major hangover the following morning. Whatever. He needed some serious alcohol. He opened the other bottle of vodka that Blaise had hidden from him and chugged down half of the liquid in the bottle. He absolutely had to forget what he had just done. And this was one thing he couldn't forget through sex; sex was what had caused the whole damned mess. He drained the vodka, then opened a bottle of scotch. At this rate, he'd have the entire place drained before midnight. Good; he'd get drunk faster.

After exactlytwo more bottles of various types of alcohol... eventually he hadn't really even been able to identify what he was drinking... and many, many trips to the wastebasket to throw up, Draco was unbelievably knackered. The only problem was that, instead of forgetting about Potter and how he'd fucked things up with him, he couldn't seem to get the whole situation out of his head. And he didn't have any more alcohol. Blaise would be extremely angry. Draco laughed drunkenly. Like he really cared. Besides, he could just buy Blaise more. Ten times the amount of what he had consumed.

Draco closed his eyes against the flickering light of the fireplace, feeling dizzy. And, of course, Potter's face popped up again. Great, so now he couldn't even pass out. This was just perfect. Bloody brilliant. He renewed his vow to never get drunk again for the umpteenth time, running a hand through his hair. Lately, Potter seemed to be the reason hekept breakinghis oath. Just like him, the wanker. Getting him drunk and then not letting him enjoy it.

0000

"Draco? You drank up all of my alcohol, you wanker," Blaise accused, picking up the bottles scattered around the armchair. "And there's no way I'm taking care of that wastebasket. Or the area _around _the wastebasket," Blaise added, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

And the only reply Draco found capable of giving was a moan as he clutched his head with both hands. How could he have been so stupid as to consume _that _much alcohol? He should have taken the hint when he threw up. The second time. The first time was the reason he'd started drinking. That and his tendency to fuck things up.

"Serves you right, idiot," Blaise said, all real malice leaving his tone. "Here, drink this." He handed Draco a vile-smelling potion, which Draco gulped down quickly. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from throwing up all over Blaise. "Thanks," he choked out when he believed it was safe enough to do so. He could feel his headache lessening slowly. He knew he'd only have a normal migraine in a few minutes.

"Yeah, you'd better appreciate it," Blaise said. "That's the last of that potion. And the last of my alcohol."

"I needed it," Draco replied, resting his head on the back of the armchair and rubbing his temples.

"I figured that. Which is why I didn't wake you up by clanging pans together or something."

Draco shuddered. "You're a good man, Blaise."

"Now, why can't anyone else see that?" Blaise asked. "Oh, and you owe me big time," he said, walking over to the exit.

"I know," Draco said. "With interest?"

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?" Blaise asked, halfway through the portrait. "Of course."

0000

Draco settled down in the armchair, glad to finally be rid of his "concerned" fellow students. All they'd really been interested in was why he'd gotten himself so piss drunk in the first place. And he wasn't about to tell them about the horrid mess he'd made. Or what he'd made such a mess out of, since the deal was a secret. He began to tug at the hem of his sleeve, then realized his fingertips weren't touching the soft, blue cashmere sweater he'd put on the night before. He looked down and realized he was wearing Potter's sweatshirt. So he really had been in a hurry to leave. He reached into the pocket of the sweatshirt and pulled out the CD player. At least he'd be able to listen to those songs again.

The haunting, slow but driving sound of Deftones filled his ears. He closed his eyes and snuggled into Potter's sweatshirt, intent on the words of the song that Potter had dubbed his favorite the night before. He breathed deeply, inhaling Potter's subtly spicy scent until he was pleasantly dizzy.

"I took you home and set you on the glass

I pulled off your wings, then I laughed"

Funny how one could relate so wellto a song. Draco sighed, moving slowly in his chair in time with the music. He _had _more or less taken Potter in and pulled off his "wings." But he wasn't sure whether or not he was actually laughing about it. Sometimes he wanted, needed, Potter's innocence.

"I watched a change in you

It's like you never had wings

Nowyou feel so alive"

So Potter's favorite was Draco's favorite, too. But the song was starting to make him feel uncomfortable suddenly, so he skipped ahead a couple of tracks until "Minerva" started up. This one wasn't as dark as the other, but it was still fuckworthy.

And then Draco realized that he had just managed to make a connection with Potter. And Potter wasn't even there in the room with him. Okay, so Draco was wearing Potter's sweatshirt and listening to Potter's favorite song by one of his favorite bands. But somehow Draco felt like he was viewing a side of Potter he'd never seen before. And to his surprise, he actually genuinely liked what he saw.

Wanting to find out more about the boy that Draco had been having sex with for nearly the entire school year, he reached into the sweatshirt pocket and pulled out... a travel-size bottle of vodka. Go figure. He debated draining the bottle, then decided against it; he'd save it for later. He reached in again and pulled out an unopened carton of cigarettes. Draco smirked. He was seeing a side of Potter he hadn't known existed. And then he pulled out another CD. He noticed it was something to do with Korn, so he opened the CD player and took out the old CD, putting the new one in its place. He looked at the booklet and found that Potter had put stars next to some of the songs. Most likely his favorites. Draco skipped ahead on the player until he got to track number eight and a slow, positively fuckworthy song... it seemed Potter knew a lot of these... pounded softly into his head.

"I don't know why I'm so fucking cold

I don't know why it hurts me

All I want to do is get with you and make the pain go away

Why do I have a conscience? All it does is fuck with me

Why do I have this torment? All I want to do is fuck it away"

Draco sat up slightly in the armchair. Something about the lyrics struck a chord in him that he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

"I tell my lies and I despise every second I'm with you

So I run away and you still stay, so what the fuck is with you?"

Draco turned up the volume and moved so he was sitting on the edge of the armchair.

"Your feelings; I can't help butrape them

I'm sorry, I don't feel the same

My heart inside is constantly hating

I'm sorry I just throw you away"

And then Draco skipped onto the next song. There was something that was just too personal about the song; it connected too well with how he felt. Another song started playing. This one was slower.

"I am watching the rise and fall of my salvation

There's so much shit around me, such a lack of compassion

I thought it would be fun and games

Instead, it's all the same

I want something to do; need to feel the sickness in you"

And then Draco rose to his feet, turning up the volume on the player. He started dancing slowly, moving as if someone were there with him.

"All I do is live for you

I need affection, need it to... just to get some sort of attention

What does it mean to you? For me, it's something I just do

I want something; I need to feel the sickness in you"

He kept dancing to the song, singing along. When it was over, he turned off the CD player and took of the headphones. He had just imagined that Potter was there, dancing with him. And then he realized that he might actually enjoy dancing with Potter. Not the way people danced at one of Hogwarts' formals. He wanted to take Potter to one of the underground raves he'd been to before with his fellow Slytherins. Somehow, instinctively, he knew Potter would enjoy the experience. Maybe he'd even been to a few before. And then Draco's eyes opened wide. He'd just thought of doing something with Potter other than having sex. Okay, so generally when he went to raves, he ended up having sex anyway. But still... taking him somewhere to initially do something other than fuck each other senseless, and in front of _other people_, was new to him. It wasn't quite as shocking a revelation as the one that had hit him in the gut the night before, but it knocked the wind out of him just the same.

Draco sank into the armchair, stretching out until most of his length was sprawled out on the floor. What the hell was happening to him? Had Blaise put something in that potion? Because he'd just thought of Potter as something other than... he'd considered taking him out _in public_. And even if they claimed they were just friends, that alone was still enough to rock the world. And he was pretty sure Potter didn't really want to do that presently; he had enough to deal with. So, maybe after all of the excitement died down... it would be too late. They wouldn't be seeing each other anymore. It was just as well, though. Besides, he'd probably already fucked up the deal by scaring the shit out of Potter. And something was wrong with him because he was still sniffing Potter's sweatshirt. Maybe he needed to go to St. Mungo's.

Draco sighed and wrapped his arms around himself tightly. All he knew was that if, for some reason, Potter miraculously decided his mistake could be overlooked, he'd gladly keep up his half of the deal. Yes, he'd pretend like last night hadn't happened, and he'd continue to uphold their arrangement until Potter left him. And then Draco found it was rather difficult, almost impossible, to breathe.

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A/N: Ooh, so both of them have been scared and run away. Which one will come to terms with their feelings first? You'll have to wait and read on to find out.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Hello, all! I believe last chapter featured a rather confused Draco. In this chapter we'll get to see what Harry thinks of Draco's odd behavior. Keep in mind that this chapter is more about Harry's thoughts than his actions. You're about to see a mildly darker side to Harry in this chapter. Now here's chapter thirteen (thank you very much reviewers. You have no idea how insecure I was about chapter twelve and what reactions I'd get...)!

Disclaimer: The lyrics I used in this chapter are from "Learning To Fly," by Pink Floyd, and "Coma White," by Marilyn Manson (good songs! I demand you listen to them! In fact, you should find a way to listen to every single song I've mentioned so far, and every song I mention in the future!).

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Chapter Thirteen

"Don't overkill this painless thrill

It's bitter still, your pretty pill

You wait until you've had your fill

I know you will"

"Shallow Bay," Breaking Benjamin

Harry was staring at the canopy of his bed, hoping it would give him some kind of clue as to what the hell had happened between him and... Malfoy. He wasn't about to call Malfoy anything other than Malfoy until he found out whether or not Malfoy wanted him to. And that didn't even make sense. Maybe his mind was muddled because it was late. Maybe he needed more sleep. Maybe he was going insane. Maybe he was going insane because he'd left his damned cigarettes in his damned sweatshirt, whichMalfoy had grabbed during his hasty retreat. Not that he himself hadn't run away plenty of times. But this wasthe first time for Malfoy, and it scared him. If Malfoy broke down, then the deal was definitely over. It was obvious that Malfoy accepted, even expected, Harry's frequent insecurities and moral attacks. But if Malfoy was fucked up enough in the head to run away... then the deal was as good as gone. And Harry felt miserable. And he was _not _going to go out with any of the girls Lavender continued to throw at him. Sex just wasn't worth that kind of torture.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron called sleepily from his bed.

"Huh?"

"You were groaning. It woke me up."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay. But what's wrong?" Ron persisted.

Harry could hear him sit up in bed. "Nothing. Bad dream. Just woke up."

"Dreams?" Ron asked.

Harry could sense the slight twinge of fear and concern in his best friend's tone. "Nothing You Know Who related, Ron," Harry sighed. "Just go back to sleep, okay?"

"...Okay. But, seriously, if something's bothering you, Harry..."

"I know. I'll talk to you, okay?" And he knew Ron was nodding and slowly lying back down. He rolled over onto his side and held back another groan. Because he'd never be able to talk about what was really bothering him. He couldn't talk to anybody except the one person that actually _was _the problem. The person that had actually said... his name... and had run away like hell was after him, his eyes almost as wide as Dobby's.

Harry closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. There were three different possible scenarios that could occur the following morning, as far as he knew. Either Malfoy would recover the same way he had several times before and pretend nothing had happened, the deal would be over, or things would... change...

0000

Harry waited until Malfoy exited Professor Binns' classroom, then yanked him aside into a darkened corner that was sheltered by a gigantic potted plant. He studied Malfoy for a second, then opened his mouth to speak...

But Malfoy beat him to it. "Not one word about last night, Potter," Malfoy growled quietly, "or I'll hex you into next week."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "I actually wasn't going to say anything about last night. Except for now, since I just inadvertently mentioned it. And now I'm sort of talking around the subject, so..."

Malfoy covered Harry's mouth with his hand. "What part of shut up don't you understand?" he hissed.

Harry mumbled something into Malfoy's hand.

"What?" Malfoy asked, taking his hand away.

"You didn't exactly tell me to shut up. You just told me not to mention... you know what." Harry shrugged.

Malfoy's eyebrows raised. "What's gotten into you?"

"Well, I am a bit tipsy, aren't I?" Harry asked. "I sort of stumbled across Seamus' supply of alcohol. And by stumbled I mean I opened his trunk, dug to the bottom of his mountain of clothes, and pulled out a bottle of Bicardi and a bottle of Coke." He giggled. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Yes," Malfoy replied grimly, "right." He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him into Professor Binns' classroom; Binns didn't have a class to teach this period, and when Binns didn't have a class, he went... wherever it was that ghosts went when they weren't around people. Malfoy shut the door behind them and pushed Harry into a chair.

Harry flopped into the chair awkwardly. "I came to ask you something," he said. "Did I already say that?"

Malfoy shrugged, studying Harry, an odd expression on his face. Or maybe Harry just thought he looked odd because he'd consumed the entire bottle of Bicardi. And the Coke was something to be reckoned with as well; caffeine _did _things to him. Harry let a loud burst of laughter escape his lips. "You took my sweatshirt last night. The one with my cigarettes." Harry squinted at Malfoy, leaning forward. "You're wearing it, aren't you?" he asked.

"No," Malfoy said, crossing his arms slowly.

Harry lunged clumsily out of the chair and more or less fell against Malfoy, tugging down on his robes until the sleeve of his most prized sweatshirt was exposed. "Yes you are," he commented, as if Malfoy might have actually not known this bit of information.

Malfoy looked down at the warm, bulky fabric. "So I am," he said.

"Are my cigarettes still in the pocket?" Harry asked.

"Cigarettes..." Malfoy said slowly, reaching into the pocket. He felt around for the carton, then pulled it out slowly and handed it to Harry.

Harry fumbled with the carton for a few seconds, trying to open it in his drunken state, then clumsily took out a cigarette and put it between his lips. He looked up at Malfoy. "You wouldn't mind lighting this for me, would you?" he asked.

"What, no wand?" Malfoy asked, not sounding in the least bit surprised. He took his wand out of his robes and aimed it at the tip of Harry's cigarette. "Incendio," he said, lighting it.

Harry nodded his thanks and took a long drag, greedily sucking the obscenely large amount of chemicals a single cigarette contained into his lungs. He exhaled slowly, holding the cigarette loosely between his index and middle finger, and closed his eyes. "Damn, I needed one of these."

"They'll kill you, you know," Malfoy said tonelessly, putting his wand back into his pocket.

"What, and alcohol won't?" Harry retorted. "Killing your liver is just as effective as killing your lungs." He brought the cigarette back to his lips and inhaled long and deep.

"Yes, and you seem intent on killing both," Malfoy commented, pulling out the travel-size bottle of vodka that Harry had shoved into the pocket of his Korn sweatshirt the day before. "Really, Potter, travel-size?"

"It's rather hard for me to get alcohol, what with my being so recognizable and all," Harry replied calmly, his words still slightly slurred. "So if you'd give me the pathetic amount I was, in fact, able to get a hold of..."

"Well, you appear rather drunk now," Malfoy observed, tossing Harry the vodka.

"Seamus doesn't have a problem with getting alcohol. In fact, the people at the bar he goes to really love him. They call him The Irishman." Harry laughed. "They like to get Seamus drunk on his ass and dare him to do things that are pretty much impossible. Seamus makes them rich when he visits the bar."

"And what about you?"

"The regulars keep quiet. I just wear an oversized hat and clothes like this," Harry indicated his rather nondescript ensemble; he definitely wouldn't have been given a second glance in a crowd, "and nobody notices me."

"Hm. Have you ever been to the Phoenix's Tear?" Malfoy asked.

"That's the bar where Seamus, Dean, and I are considered regulars," Harry laughed. "The Phoenix Tear. 'We may not be able to cure what plagues you...'"

"'...but we can sure as hell help you forget about it," Malfoy finished the bar's slogan, the corners of his lips tugging upward almost imperceptibly. "I never would have thought of you as a regular at a place like that."

"You and nearly everybody else in the wizarding world," Harry replied, waving his hand dismissively. "They don't know I smoke, they don't know I drink, they don't know I'm not a virgin... or that I prefer to fuck boys, for that matter... and they definitely do _not _know where I go on Friday and Saturday nights... when I'm not with you." Harry grinned devilishly and finished off his cigarette.

"And where might that be?" Malfoy asked, studying his fingernails.

"Well, besides the Phoenix Tear, Seamus, Dean, and I sneak out and go to Deity," Harry replied, closing his eyes and smiling as if remembering something pleasant.

"Deity?" Malfoy looked up sharply.

"It's a wizarding dance club in Knockturn Alley," Harry explained.

"I know. What do you go there for?"

"Well, besides dancing... which is obvious, considering it's a dance club... we drink the ungodly concoction they call 'Ambrosia' until closing time. Or until we get thrown out. Whichever comes first." Harry frowned, then smiled again.

Malfoy shook his head. "I definitely did not know this about you."

"Of course you didn't. It's not like I want people to know this about me." Harry let his cigarette fall to the floor and he smashed it with the heel of his skater shoes. "I'm going to assume you go there often as well...?"

"A few times a month," Malfoy replied. "I've never actually tried their Ambrosia. I was advised against it."

"Huh, you have to have a strong stomach." Harry paused, then added, "Actually, you have to have a strong everything."

"And you do?" Malfoy inquired.

"_Now _I do," Harry replied honestly. "The first time we went to Deity, we stayed away from the brew like you did because we were advised against it. By the fifth or sixth time we went, Seamus was itching to find out what the hell the big deal was, and he convinced me to try it with him." Harry smirked. "By morning we were puking outeverythingin our stomachs and then some in adjacent stalls. After cursing Seamus for three days straight, we went back to Deity and drank more."

"Idiot," Malfoy chuckled.

"Yeah. But, you see, it's addictive. We got Dean to try the stuff and now he's hooked, too. It's not the bending over the toilet all morning while experiencing the worst hangover you've ever had. It's the sensation you get _before _all of that." Harry looked up at Malfoy. "Have you ever tried Ecstasy?"

"Yes," Malfoy admitted. "They sell like hot cakes at Deity."

"I know. That's because drug dealers are trying to keep up with the club's Ambrosia. And for those that have actually tried the drink, the dealers are failing miserably."

"That good, huh?"

"Take every sensation you experience while under the influence of Ecstasy and multiply it by... Merlin, I can't even describe it. It's one of those things you can only truly understand if you experience it yourself."

"Maybe I'll have to chance the wretching in the bathroom all night."

"There's no _chance _of it. You _will_."

Malfoy grimaced. "I'll have to wait until the usual crowd is too drugged up to notice, then." He studied Harry for a second. "Now I know why you didn't come to classes today. You're obviously drunk."

"And I didn't do a damned thing as far as homework is concerned last night," Harry added. "I've found that just skipping classes is easier than not turning in homework." He drained the meager contents of the vodka bottle, then settled more comfortably into the chair. "I just come up with some excuse about being sick or something like that."

"And they buy it?" Malfoy snorted. "Who's Slipknot, anyway?" he asked, gesturing toward Harry's T-shirt.

"A band," Harry replied.

"Of course, smart ass," Malfoy drawled. "Are they any good?"

"Would I be wearing a T-shirt with their logo on it if they weren't?"

"No."

"Well, there you go then. I'd have thought you'd know, what with Deity playing their music all the time."

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't bother with finding out the names of songs or bands. I just listen to the music there, that's all."

"Dean goes to Deity specifically for the music. He convinces the DJs to make special mixes for him."

"Convinces?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"If you knew Dean, you'd know he doesn't need to persuade them that way. If he goes out for a Muggle profession when he's out of school, he's definitely going to be a lawyer or something like that." Harry grinned. "Now, Seamus is the one that goes there for that kind ofaction. And the alcohol."

"And what do you go to Deity for?" Malfoy asked, leaning against the wall.

Harry shrugged. "A combination of all three, actually. But mainly dancing. I dance from opening hour until closing time."

"And you don't get tired?"

"Not a chance in hell. Especially if I've got Ambrosia running through my system. Oh, and if you ever decide to try Ambrosia, do _not _mix it with Ecstasy unless you're attempting suicide."

"Personal experience?"

"Not me directly. One of the regulars that Dean, Seamus, and I hang out with there tried it. He made it to St. Mungo's just in time. He can't even drink Coke now without shaking, and he can't dance for more than one song. If that long."

"Do not take Ambrosia with Ecstasy unless I have a death wish. Got it."

"But if you want to lessen the effects of the Ambrosia, drink a shot... and no more than a shot... of Jack Daniel's."

"And what happens if I drink more than a shot?" Malfoy inquired.

"Your system gets so fucked up you won't be able to sleep for at least a week," Harry replied calmly.

"I'm not all too sure how I feel about getting instructions on what drugs work the best from the Golden Boy," Malfoy said wryly.

"I'm not all too sure how I feel about having to give them to a Slytherin," Harry retorted, standing up. "I'm going to go upstairs and sleep before the alcohol wears off."

"Wait," Malfoy said, placing his hand on Harry's arm. Harry merely raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "When do you plan on going to Deity again?" Malfoy asked casually.

Harry grinned. "Why do you think I started getting drunk now?" he asked. "I'm trying to get my stomach ready for tonight's round of Ambrosia."

"Maybe I'll see you there, then." Malfoy removed his hand from Harry's arm.

Harry nodded. "Maybe. Perhaps I'll even dance with you." And with that, he exited the room. An odd, warm, tingling sensation seemed to shoot through his veins and straight to his groin. Dancing with Malfoy was a rather appealing thought.

0000

"Did you hear Ron snoring?" Seamus asked, giggling.

"Are you kidding?" Dean said incredulously. "Who _didn't _hear him? He made the windows rattle."

"And he was blowing bubbles, too," Seamus said.

"Shut up," Harry said. "This cloak makes you invisible, not soundless."

"Sorry," Seamus whispered loudly, taking a swig from a flask of R & R.

"Dean, take that away from him," Harry commanded half-heartedly.

Seamus only tried to yank the bottle away, making the cloak jerk off of them partially.

"Seamus!" Dean and Harry hissed simultaneously.

"Sorry again." Seamus' apology was broken by a hiccup.

"Anymore of this and I'll tell the bartender to refuse to give you any Ambrosia," Dean threatened, readjusting the cloak so it covered them again. Seamus instantly shut up and put the bottle of whiskey away.

Harry chuckled. "Good one, Dean."

"Yes, I thought so."

The three of them made their way to Hogwarts' exit slowly, stopping every once and awhile to make sure the corridors were really empty; you just never knew sometimes. When they finally left the castle, they made their way to a large boulder situated to their left and pushed it aside, which was an easy task since the boulder only _looked _heavy due to a magical illusion. An entrance to an underground tunnel was revealed, and they each jumped into the tunnel with Dean entering last, rolling the boulder back over the entrance to cover it up. After muttering "lumos" to light the way, Harry led the way through the tunnel that would take them a block away from Deity.

"You know, Harry, you really do look great," Seamus purred, stumbling along the tunnel behind him.

Harry turned around so he was walking backward and looked at Dean over Seamus' head. They both rolled their eyes at each other, then winked; Seamus thought anything looked good when he was drunk. Harry turned back around just in time to climb up the rickety ladder that brought him up to the exit of the tunnel, which was covered with a wooden circle that was magicked to look like a patch of grass. He pulled himself out onto the miniature "garden" that had been added to make the neighborhood look more people friendly, but only served to remind everyone of how dingy and shady it really was. Sure enough, some stupid kid had pulled a juvenile stunt by adding detergent to the water fountain yet again. Harry stepped out of the rising mass of soap and helped Seamus up to his feet. Dean leaped out of the hole behind them and quickly sealed it off. "Let's get going," he said, looking around nervously. He wasn't afraid of the "gangsters," he was afraid of the prostitutes. They were scary bitches who had you pantsless on the floor and coming before you even knew you'd actually seen them. And then they took your wallet.

"They won't come after you if you blend in, remember?" Harry reminded Dean. They'd discovered that if you looked like you were actually a part of the neighborhood, nobody bothered you. So they'd taken to dressing up like they belonged there. So Dean was decked out in a Metallica T-shirt with ripped up jeans... and high-heeled shoes, a head band with a pink bow at the top, and a gold heart locket. And Seamus had spiked up his hair with strong-holding gel so his head looked like a pincushion. He was wearinga tight, black muscle shirt, a sequined, iridescent black skirt, and black combat boots with the laces undone. Harry, who felt alive and anonymous when he came to Deity, had donned the obvious baggy black T-shirt sporting the logo of one of his favorite bands... Alice In Chains... with baggy black jeans that were weighed down with an unseemly amount of chains... one of which attached his wallet securely to one of his pockets... and the typical skater shoes. And he had decided to accessorize with identical red and black striped socks that he had cut up to cover his arms from his elbows to the beginnings of his fingers, a silver chain necklace and a black stud collar, and a single silver hoop earring accompanied by a fake diamond stud in his right earlobe. And all three of them wore make-up; black lipstick, black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, black nail polish, and lots and lots of glitter. If you didn't wear glitter, then you were _not _a regular.

"How do I look?" Seamus asked.

"Like everybody else," Dean replied. "Scary."

"You mean gay?" Seamus asked.

"Not everybody looks gay."

"The regulars do."

"Yeah," Dean conceded, "they do." He shrugged, sighing. The funny thing about Dean's attraction to Deity was that he really did come for the music, and the music alone; Deity was a flamingly gay, freakishly Goth dance club, but Dean was, without a doubt, not gay or Goth. Which was hard to believe when you took in his high-heeled pumps, pink head band, and heart locket. He adjusted his head band, then merged into the long line of people that were waiting to get into the club. Harry and Seamus entered the line next to him. After what seemed like forever, but was probably really only a little under five minutes, one of the bouncers noticed them and waved them up to the front of the line. They shoved their way through the crowd, ignoring the angry glares they got from other people waiting to get in. When they reached the bouncer, he nodded. "Haven't seen you in awhile," he said.

"You miss us?" Seamus asked, winking flirtatiously.

The bouncer ignored this comment and turned to a guy standing next to him, who was obviously newly recruited to the security team. "These three guys are cool," the bouncer said to him, gesturing toward Harry, Dean, and Seamus. "If you see them in line, wave 'em up." The recruit nodded, studying the three seventh years intently. The bouncer punched Dean in the arm. "Nice ensemb, Tomas," he said. Dean nodded, and the three of them edged past the bouncers and into the club. When they had come to Deity for the first time, they had decided it would be a good idea to come up with aliases, just in case. So Dean went by Tomas, Seamus went by Dana, and Harry was known as Ash. That way they could do whatever crazy, outlandish things they wanted.

Entering the club, no matter how familiar you were with the setting, was disorienting for a few seconds. The lighting was designed to distort images; lasers moving at alternating speeds, black lights, white lights that flashed so fast it made the people dancing around you look like they were in an old black and white film, disco balls, dry ice, mirrors, and, occasionally, soap suds that poured down from the ceiling. Harry paused at the top of the rickety, black iron stairs for a moment to get his bearings, then descended into the world where he wasn't known as The Boy Who Lived or the Golden Boy. He was simply Ash, the boy who would make out with... and possibly fuck... any guy he found attractive, sing his lungs out to Pink Floyd or Tool on karaoke night, follow through with any dare you gave him, always won any fights anybody provoked him into, and drank you under the table. When Harry was in Deity, he was cool; a respected, bad-ass individual that nobody messed with. And those that didn't know him learned about him pretty quick; either through personal experience, or through a warning from somebody else. Harry came for a good time, and he definitely got it and then some at Deity.

"Drinks!" Seamus yelled loudly over the grinding industrial techno music.

"Yeah, this is definitely a drinking song," Dean agreed. They had managed to categorize the music that was played at Deity into different genres. All of the music was rock-based, but some of it was what they dubbed "have to dance to no matter what you're doing" music, "can dance and socialize to at the same time" music, "can drink and socialize to" music, and "you can go to the bathroom now" music. Usually the drinkworthy music was closely followed by a got to dance song, so the three boys hurried to the bar and ordered the usual round of Ambrosia to start them off.

The man who was tending bar for the night was wiping off glasses with a towel, not really looking at them. "Are you sure? It's pretty powerful shi... oh, hey, guys," he said, laughing. "Never mind, then. First round's on the house." He winked and poured out the trademark club drink. "I've got to warn you about the heroin that's going around, though. If you want to hit any of that tonight..."

Harry... or Ash... shook his head. "Ambrosia's just fine, Patrick," he said.

Patrick nodded. "Here you go." He put the drinks up on the table. Seamus practically snatched one of the glasses out of his hands and tossed it back. He stood absolutely motionless for a few minutes, then blinked and smiled; Ambrosia's effect did not take long. He leaped out onto the dance floor and was swallowed up by the crowd instantly.

Dean consumed his more slowly, taking the time to thank the bartender before he went to dance as well.

Harry wrapped his hands around his glass and slid it toward himself slowly, sitting down on one of the barstools.

"What's up?" Patrick asked, already serving other customers.

"I'm wondering if someone I know is here," Harry replied, sipping at his drink. He liked to feel the liquor trickle down his throat like liquid fire, burning a trail through his veins.

"Well, maybe I can help you out," Patrick said, wiping down the counter space that had been occupied by someone who had just left the bar.

"That's what I was hoping," Harry replied.

"So, what's he look like?" Patrick paused and looked at Ash, going into photographic-memory mode; the beauty about Patrick was that he never forgot a face.

"Blonde hair that comes down to just above the jaw line, pale skin, a few inches taller than me, gray eyes..." He gestured weakly, feeling the Ambrosia going to work.

"If he's here, he hasn't come to the bar yet," Patrick said, shrugging in apology. "I'll let you know if I see him, though."

"Thanks." Harry stood up and made his way over to the dance floor. He was immediately sucked into the crowd, and he used his slight weight to his advantage in order to more or less crowd surf over to the raised dais that was situated in the middle of the huge room and leaped up onto it, immediately moving in time with the fast-paced rhythm of the techno song that was drawing to an end. And Harry was immediately sandwiched between two other guys, who were in turn pressed up next to other people on the platform. And they moved together as one body. And Harry loved it; loved being a part of a crowd. And then the song ended. Butthat was okay, because the next song was by Nine Inch Nails. One of Harry's favorite songs, in fact. He started moving in timeto the slow, grinding, industrial music, relishing in the feel of the percussion and the bass pumping through his veins, pounding in his gut. It was like energy shooting up through his feet to the tips of his hair. And then he felt someone's arms encircle his waist, thumbs rubbing the area just above the waistline of his jeans. He instantly leaned back against the chest of whoever it was, knowing it wasn't Malfoy. Then he turned around to face his dancing partner. He was definitely good-looking; brunette, hazel eyes, much taller than Harry. And he obviously worked out, if the fact that his shirt was off and he was showing offa serious six-pack was any indication. He was probably about Fred and George's age. He grinned up at the stranger, then pressed up against him and resumed dancing, grindinginto him slowly.

Harry wrapped his arms around the guy's neck, pulling down so they moved lower and lower to the dance floor, bending their knees and pumping in time to the music. The closer they came to the floor, the more tightly they pressed together. And then they were kissing, and the stranger was squatting on the floor, his arms spread out behind him to keep his balance, and Harry was more or less straddling his lap, invading his mouth with his tongue. He could taste scotch on his tongue and he soaked it in, still pressing against him in time with the music. The stranger was becoming more and more excited, bucking his hips up against Harry and kissing him enthusiastically. Harry wanted to smirk; you would have thought that _he _was older.

And then the song ended, and Harry stood up abruptly, reaching out and shaking the hand of the stranger. "Good dance," he said, sounding businesslike. He nodded briefly, then moved further into the crowd on the dais before the stranger... who was now dazed and sprawled out on the floor with an erection that made it seem like he had a small dog in his pants... could protest. A long line of songs that Harry liked... "Man in a Box," by Alice in Chains, "Vermillion," by Slipknot, "Somebody, Someone," by Korn, "Digital Bath," by Deftones, and "Heart-shaped Box," by Nirvana... before a slower song filled the room. He pressed up against a guy who was already dancing with someone else and swayed along with them to the beat of the music. It took a moment for Harry to realize that the notes came together to make up A Perfect Circle's "Weak And Powerless." Harry wrapped his arms more tightly around the waist in front of him and rested his cheek against the guy's shoulder, closing his eyes. After the first verse had passed through, he was compelled to open his eyes. And then he almost stopped dancing, because he saw who the stranger he was pressed up against was dancing with; Malfoy. And Malfoy was looking right back at him.

Harry took in Malfoy's appearance, managing to study him quickly withoutappearing to stare. Malfoy had streaked his white-blonde hair with purple dye, and he was wearing a tight, sheer, silver spandex muscle shirt with a bright orange, long-sleeved, midriff jersey over it. He wore tight, black leather pants that accented his ass in such a way that Harry almost forgot he wasn't supposed to stare, and dragonhide boots. And, instead of the black make-up that Harry had chosen to apply, Malfoy had done his face upin white and purple, and he had applied silvery lip gloss that made his lips iridescent and... as far as Harry was concerned... achingingly kissable. To Harry, Malfoy looked like some kind of shimmering faerie that, while appearing beautiful and angelic, would take you straight to the world of demons as soon as you let your guard down. That was Malfoy in a nutshell. He wasn't dressed up tonight; he was simply himself.

And then Harry was brought out of his trance by another man pressing up against him from behind and wrapping his arms around his chest. "I haven't seen you around for awhile, Ash," he cooed, breathing into his ear seductively. Harry hadn't taken his eyes off of Malfoy. And now Malfoy was looking at Harry, surprise playing at his features. So Malfoy had heard about Ash. Had heard about him. And then Harry wondered what Malfoy had heard about his alternate persona.

"I've got some heroin, baby," the man continued, still speaking into his ear loudly. "You want to goto the back room and shoot some?"

Harry turned his head to look at the man scornfully. "Heroin? You think I'm going to resort to shit like heroin when there's Ambrosia here?" he asked. Sure, he knew he was being an asshole, but the guy was annoying him for some reason. Besides, the last time Harry had been with the creep, he had tried to label him as his boyfriend and told everyone they'd been seeing each other for quite some time. That was the downside to his alter ego; Ash was well-known in the undergroundworld in the way Harry was popular in the mainstream crowds. Whether it was Lavender or the guy that was trying to get him to fuck him again, some people were constantly trying to get some sort of credibility through his celebrity. And he thought that was pathetic. He shrugged off the guy. "Go sell your crap to the whores out on the corner," he snapped. The guy backed off instantly; you didn't piss off Ash. Harry sighed, watching him retreat.

"Jackass," Malfoy shouted.

Harry turned around in surprise.

Malfoy motioned toward the guy. "Him," he mouthed.

Harry nodded. "Who's your friend?" he asked, looking over the shoulder of the guy standing in front of him so he could see his face.

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't know. I think he's too fucked up to know who he is himself." He snapped his fingers in front of the guy's face andreceived no reaction whatsoever.

Harry smirked. "The music must be hypnotic or something," he commented, noticing how the guy situated betweenhim and Malfoywas still dancing in time to the music. He had to repeat his insight to Malfoy because the music was so loud.

"This place is crazy," Malfoy said, as if that explained everything. And it did.

Harry laughed. "Exactly," he replied. He pointed in the general direction of the bar, then mimed tossing back a shot.

Malfoy nodded. "I'll join you," he shouted. They walked off the dance floor together and sat down at the bar. Harry ordered another Ambrosia, and Malfoy stared at him for a few seconds before turning to Patrick and saying, "I'll have the same."

"And he'll have it mixed with a shot of Jack," Harry added. He looked at Malfoy. "It's the best way to dilute the Ambrosia without killing yourself," he explained.

Malfoy nodded. "Right. I think you said something about that earlier."

Harry nodded. "Just remember not to take Ecstasy," he warned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I don't feel like dying tonight."

Patrick set their drinks on the table. "One Ambrosia and Jack Daniel's, and one straight Ambrosia. Second one, Ash. Am I going to have to throw you out tonight?" he joked, winking.

"You wouldn't throw me out," Harry said, gulping down his drink. "The bouncers would."

"Nah, they wouldn't throw you out either," Patrick said, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. "They like you too much."

"That's because he helps keep the peace," Dean said, appearing behind them suddenly. "Another Ambrosia and Jack, please," he said to Patrick before turning his attention to Harry and Malfoy. "So who's the hot... Malfoy?"

"The hot Malfoy would be Draco, Tomas," Harry said wryly.

"Um..." Dean stuttered. "Hey." As soon as Patrick put his drink on the table, Dean snatched it up and more or less ran away from the bar.

"Well, he's got something to tell everybody now," Malfoy growled.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. What happens here stays here. That's the rule."

"Yeah, and you and how many people go by this rule?" Malfoy asked, sipping tentatively at his drink. He grimaced. "This is what everyone raves about?"

"It's not the taste, it's the feeling it brings. And Seamus and Dean are the onlyother people that come here with me."

"Finnegan?"

"Don't worry. He may not be able to keep a secret to save his life at school, but when it comes to this place, he keeps his mouth shut." He downed the rest of the contents in his glass and set it down on the table. "Thanks, Patrick." He rose to his feet.

"Are you going back out on the dance floor?" Malfoy asked, finishing his drink as well.

"Of course."

"Our Ash likes to dance all night, isn't that right?" Patrick asked, wiping Harry's glass.

"You know it," Harry replied. "Are you coming?" he asked Malfoy.

"Sure," Malfoy said after a moment. "Why not?" He followed Harry back up to the dais. Harry leapt up onto the raised platform and held out a hand to help Malfoy up as well. If he was feeling lightheaded, then Malfoy was, too. The edges of his vision were just starting to be caressed by thin, hazy rainbows, and everything was sharper and blurrier at the same time. They started moving to the rhythm of Lacuna Coil's "Swamped," and Harry twirled and dipped until he was dizzy, reveling in the feeling of freedom he experienced every time he was on the dance floor. And Malfoy danced with him, restrained and hesitant at first, but eventually jumping and twisting with the same reckless abandon. To Harry, this was his way of expressing life.

0000

"I think I'm... rather knackered," Malfoy stated, wobbling on his feet slightly. "Have you ever noticed how... bright the room is?" he asked.

And Harry had; it was like millions of shimmering pieces of glass shattering over and over again, tingling and ringing in his ears while not making any sound at all. And every person was made up of swirls of color that blended and broke apart, forming intricate patterns that changed every second. And everything was beautiful. And everything was wonderful. And everything was perfect. And he could hear every sound in the room distinctly, separate. But all the sounds blended together, too, like a hive of angry bees.

And then Malfoy was leaning into him,bendingso his forehead was resting on the curve between Harry's neck and his shoulder. "So, you're Ash," he said into Harry's ear. Harry shivered, relishing in the thousands of waves that made up Malfoy's voice. They all broke up and scattered so that Malfoy's words only made partial sense. "I've heard many things about you."

"Really?" Harry asked, his voice husky. "What do people say?"

"Lots of things. Some people hate you. Others think you're a god." Malfoy chuckled. "I wonder what they'd think if they knew I was fuckinga god?"

Harry laughed. "They'd probably think it's even more possible to get into my pants than before."

Malfoy's hand moved to caress Harry's cock through his jeans. "How many people know they can get into your pants?"

Harry sighed and pressed his cheek against Malfoy's hair. "I'm not really sure. Sometimes I'm too fucked up to notice what's going on. You can usually tell by the way people look at me, though."

"Really?" Malfoy asked, straightening up so he was looking down at Harry again. "How so?"

Harry looked around at faces in the crowd. "Like there," he said, pointing at one particular person. "Do you see how he's staring at me?"

"Looks like he thinks you're forbidden or something," Malfoy laughed.

"That means we've never had sex before, and he really wants to.They're the ones I stay away from." Harry looked for another example. "You see him?"

"He looks like he doesn't care."

"Right. Look again in a couple of seconds, but don't make it obvious that you're looking."

"He's staring at you out of the corners of his eyes."

"He's waiting for me to get messed up enoughso he can more or less fuck me right here on the floor without my even noticing, let alone stopping him." He pointed at another guy. "And then there areguys like him."

Malfoy craned his neck to look at him. "Let me guess. He's had sex with you before."

"How'd you guess?" Harry asked, not really surprised.

"He's smirking at you and strutting around so much it's pathetic."

"Yeah. That means I made a mistake and picked the wrong kind of guy."

"What sort of guys do you pick here?"

"People like that guy over there," Harry said, gesturing to someone who wasn't looking in their direction at all. "He doesn't know who I am. Either people like that or people who get just as trashed as I do. That way neither of us remembers who we had sex with when we wake up."

"What category do I fall under?" Malfoy asked.

"I didn't meet you here so you're a completely different story."

Malfoy nodded. "Let's go get another round." He led Harry over to the bar, both of them tripping occasionally over nothing.

"Is this your third?" Patrick asked when they reached the bar.

"Yeah," Malfoy replied, nearly missing the stool when he sat down.

Harry didn't even bother to try; he just leaned against the bar. "If I can still count, then I'm too sober."

"Well, you've got all night," Patrick said, handing Harry another drink. Harry gulped it down and sighed. "God, I love that feeling," he remarked, feeling the hot liquid shoot straight to his gut and lace outward through his veins. "Let's go," he said to Malfoy, grabbing his hand and leading him out onto the dance floor. They crawled up onto the dais, taking their time so as not to hurt themselves, then resumed dancing wildly to a loud, heavy-metal rendition of some old eighties pop song.

When that song faded away, it was replaced with Marilyn Manson's "Coma White." Harry laughed and spun around once, twice, his hands arms stretched out over his head. "I love this song."

Malfoy encircled Harry's waist with his arms. "I've heard it before. I like it, too."

Harry groaned. "So shut up and dance to it." He wrapped his arms around Malfoy's neck and they moved slowly, rhythmically, to the music. Harry started singing along, his voice low and even.

"A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb, a pill to make you anybody else

All the drugs in this world won't save her from herself"

"You sing nice," Malfoy commented, nuzzling Harry's hair. "I didn't expect that." He laughed. "Then again, you've been surprising me a lot lately."

Harry smiled. "You should come here on karaoke night sometime," he said. "Then you'll really hear me sing."

And then "Coma White" was over, and another song blasted out of the speakers. Harry instantly knew what the song was, the percussionsending thrills straight up through his body from his toes and giving him goosebumps. "Mm, I love this song."

"You love every song," Malfoy retorted.

"Yeah, but I love this song especially," Harry shot back. "Now just shut up and dance."

The two of them started moving in time to the beat, getting into the music. "What's this song?" Malfoy asked.

"It's Pink Floyd's 'Learning To Fly,'" Harry replied. "Now, shut up." He pressed his head against Malfoy's chest, and Malfoy rested his cheek on the top of Harry's head. He placed one hand between Harry's shoulder blades, and the other on the small of his back. Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy and closed his eyes, listening to the words of the song.

"Into the distance, a ribbon of black s

Stretched to the point of no turning back

A flight of fancy on a windswept field

Standing alone, my senses reel

A fatal attraction holding me fast

How can I escape this irresistible grasp?"

He pressed closer against Malfoy, feeling the other boy twirl them around in slow circles, still moving up and down in time with the beat.

"Ice is forming on the tips of my wings

Unheeded warnings; I thought I'd thought of everything

No navigator to find my way home

Unladen, empty, and turned to stone"

And then he noticed Malfoy was humming along, just like he was. And it was like they were alone on the dais, even though that was ridiculous, because they could barely move due to its being so crowded. But they were dancing together, moving back and forth, twirling, spinning together in a rhythm they matched perfectly. Nobody else could find that rhythm. They just blended together.

"Above the planet on a wing and a prayer

My grubby halo a vapor trail in the empty air

Across the clouds I see my shadow fly

Out of the corner of my watering eye

A dream unthreatened by the morning light

Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night"

And Harry didn't want this night with Malfoy to end because they were together in public and nobody cared; nobody could tell, because nobody knew. And he knew that, standing in the circle of Malfoy's arms, Malfoy didn't want the night to end either.

"There's no sensation to compare with this

Suspended animation, a state of bliss

Can't keep my mind from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit"

And they continued to dance to that rhythm, even though a different song had started playing, even though the dancers around them were moving to some fast-paced, acid-metal tune. And they didn't care, because they were still flying. And it was beautiful. And it was perfect. And when the morning came, it would be over. And it would never be the same again.

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Ooh, wasn't that a bad ending? I cut it off like that because the next chapter is in Harry's perspective again, so I felt I didn't have to completely close off this one. How'd you like it? If excuses must be made, I did type up this chapter rather late at night, and I wanted to illustrate a more "human" side to Harry. You know, like his desire to be part of something and not have to worry about being important? Anyway, review and let me know what you think, because there's really not much you can do to let me know what your opinion is otherwise.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Hello, and merry Christmas (just in case I don't get another chapter up and running before the holiday arrives)! Thank you, reviewers, for the feedback on chapter thirteen. Warning: this chapter is rather frustrating, due to confusion induced by alcohol consumption and its effects afterward, and the fact that this chapter's in Harry's perspective. There is also some drug use. When I portray Harry using drugs, I don't want you to think that I'm trying to make him look like a wasted bad-ass. Sorry, if there's confusion or outrage. The drug use isn't necessarily essential to the story. I guess I'm just using it to portray a more, as I label it, "human" side to the Gryffindors. Now, I don't mean human in the sense that _everybody _does drugs and stuff like that. I actually don't know how to describe it. Maybe you can try to do it for me because this is confusing the hell out of me, too. And there's not going to be too much sex in this chapter because the sex scenes I had originally written (or rather, typed) sort of lessened the story. Sorry. Actually, the more in touch they get with their feelings, the less sex there'll be. Doesn't that just make you happy? Don't worry, there will still be sex. Just not as much. Anyway, there's not much else to say, except this chapter is bound to frustrate at least a few people. And now, here's chapter fourteen!

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Chapter Fourteen

"You are an asshole, king of the castle

I am the meager; follow the leader"

"No Games," Breaking Benjamin

Harry woke up that morning, feeling, to put it mildly, like shit. He more or less rolled out of bed and sprawled out on the floor, then dragged himself slowly across the cold stones to the door. He pulled himself up to his feet, then trudged along clumsily to the bathroom. Seamus was already leaving one of the stalls, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When he noticed Harry standing there, he grimaced. "Good morning," Harry said wryly.

"If you have to throw up, don't use the middle stall," Seamus instructed. "I missed."

It was Harry's turn to grimace. "Thanks for letting me know, Seamus."

"Only here to help, Harry. I thought I told you last time to keep me away from that brew from hell."

"And last night you would have hexed us six ways to Sunday if we'd actually done so," Harry retorted. He really needed to be sick. And soon.

"You should know better than to listen to me. Then again, as soon as this hangover's over, I'll want more." Seamus shrugged and exited the bathroom slowly, cringing when the hinges squeaked loudly.

Harry dove into the nearest stall and emptied the contents of his stomach, noticing the bowl now looked as if he had put one of those bleach capsules that made the water blueinto the filter; Ambrosia was a bright, thick, flourescent blue. He flushed it quickly, then grudgingly peered into Seamus' stall to see if he'd have to clean it up. Normally, he would have left the job to Filch, but Filch knew what regurgitated Ambrosia looked like, and Ambrosia could only be acquired at Deity. And Deity meant students out past curfew, underage drinking, and many other items on a long list. Fortunately, there were no traces of blue anywhere on the floor. Thank God. He left the stall quickly and resumed contributing his portion of blue liquid into the adjacent toilet. After what seemed like hours, his body finally seemed satisfied. He had definitely drank way too much the night before. He knew this because, firstly, he usually didn't have to throw up in the morning anymore, and, secondly, he couldn't remember a damned thing that had happened. Well, there were foggy memories, such as seeing Malfoy there, putting up with a few jackasses, good music, and so on. But the specifics, particularly after hisseventh or eighth drink, were all a blur.

Harry shook his head slowly, rubbing his temples, and made his way over to the sink. "Thank God it's Saturday," he muttered, turning on the tap and splashing his face with icy cold water.

"You can say that again," Dean muttered, coming out of the stall that was on the other side of the one Seamus had used.

Harry looked at Dean via the mirror's reflection, startled. "When the hell did you get in there?"

"You were coughing up all kinds of good stuff. Probably didn't hear me," Dean replied, his voice hoarse. He massaged his throat. "Why the hell did I drink so much last night?"

"I don't know," Harry sputtered, still splashing at his face.

Dean turned on the faucet next to Harry's and cupped his hands, bringing water up to his lips and sipping slowly. "Probably for lack of a proper relationship. Isn't that pathetic?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. You're heterosexual. You go to a gay dance club for a good time. I'd drink myself under the table and then some."

"Thanks for making me get in touch with how pathetic I am."

"Hey, I like to help people. It's in my nature." Harry swished his mouth out with water, then spat it into the sink. And then he repeated the procedure until the bitter taste of bile was gone.

"What did _you _drink so much for, then?" Dean asked.

"Relationship trouble," Harry replied honestly.

"Partner, or lack thereof?"

"What, have you suddenly become Seamus?" Harry asked, not looking up from the sink.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." Dean punched Harry's shoulder lightly. "Don't kill yourself, though. Just come over to the bar next time and bitch about relationships with me, okay?"

"Right." Harry chuckled. "I think Seamus had it worse."

"Probably. He usually does. That boy does _not _know when to stop."

They had to cut the conversation short when a younger student entered the room. "So, anyway, I'm going to go back to bed," Dean said. "See you." He left the bathroom. Harry stared at the closed door for a few seconds, then turned off the tap. He wiped off his face with a paper towel, then left as well.

0000

Harry sat down at Gryffindor table with no intention of eating or drinking a goddamned thing. When Hermione tried to pressure him to at least try a roll or something, he said, and none too friendly, to shove her rolls up her ass. Then he realized that she didn't know he had a hangover, and he instantly apologized and told her he wasn't feeling very well. And he heard Seamus snicker a few seats away, then moan when he laughed a bit too hard. Harry grinned maliciously, making Hermione even more nervous and confused. Realizing there was no way to get out ofthe situation without telling her straight out that he had a bad hangover, Harry said he was going to go up to bed and sleep off his headache and left as quickly as he possibly could.

When he reached his dorm, he saw that Dean was already sprawled out on the bed, his feet hanging over the baseboard. He looked up when Harry entered. "You wouldn't mind closing the curtains, would you?" he asked.

"Why don't you just close your own?" Harry asked.

"I'm about to. I just don't want to feel like someone's shoved dull knives into my eyes when the sun shines into them."

"What if someone opens the window curtains again?" Harry asked, already closing the second set of curtains.

"I'll kill 'em. Kedavra them right where they stand."

"Wouldn't that be hard to do, considering you wouldn't be able to focus very well?" Harry asked, closing the last set of curtains.

"Quit raining on my parade, Potter."

Harry smirked and flopped down on his own bed. "G'morning, Thomas." He pulled the blankets over his head and drifted off to sleep, hearing Dean's voice in the distance, saying, "Sweet dreams, smartass."

0000

Harry woke up later, feeling considerably better. He opened the curtains and found it was very, very dark. "What, is there an eclipse or something?" he muttered sleepily.

"No, idiot," Dean groaned, flopping over onto his other side. "You closed the curtains, remember?"

"Oh, right. What time is it?" He rubbed at his eyes and reached out for his wristwatch.

"I'm pretty sure it's around four or something like that."

"Yeah. Half past, actually." Harry tossed his watch onto a pile of his dirty clothes, then stretched out on his back and let sleep claim him again.

0000

The next time Harry woke up it was absolutely pitch black, and he had one hell of a time finding the nearest window so he could open the curtains. When he opened them, he turned around to scan the dorm and noticed that it was night time and everybody was in bed. Ron hadn't come to wake him up for dinner. Good thing, too. Harry probably would have hexed him. He left the dorm, happy to be rid of his splitting headache and swirling stomach, and made his way out of the tower. He didn't have any particular destination, he just didn't want to be in bed. When he reached the end of the corridor he realized the clinking sounds he was hearing were, in fact, coming from his own pants; he hadn't changed clothes since the night before. He sighed, contemplating going back up to his dorm, then decided against it. If anybody caught him he could just say he was on his way to Madam Pomfrey's; most people in the school probably knew he had been sick all day by now.

And then he was pulled aside quickly, and Malfoy was glaring at him. "I felt bloody awful this morning," he complained.

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"I'm never drinking that shit again," Malfoy declared.

"Liar," Harry stated simply.

"Without a doubt," Malfoy agreed. "That stuff works wonders."

"Told you so."

"Let's have sex."

"Of course."

Malfoy and Harry made their way to a nearby supply closet and slipped inside, locking the door behind them. Malfoy began kissing Harry enthusiastically, and Harry fumbled with Malfoy's pants. "Can you believe," Harry gasped, "that we haven't had sex in days?"

"Yes."

"Me, too."

Malfoy shoved Harry against the wall and undid his pants, pulling them down around his ankles. "These chains are... kinky," Malfoy commented before he dropped to his knees and started sucking Harry off.

"You haven't had sex for awhile. You probably think everything's kinky right now." Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "Then again," he added, "so do I." His breath hitched in his throat when Malfoy did something particularly delightful with his tongue. "Christ, Malfoy," Harry choked. He could feel Malfoy grin wickedly before repeating the trick. Harry attempted to dig his fingernails into the wall and clenched his teeth until he believed they were permanently fused together. He thrust forward into Malfoy's mouth and came within minutes, due to Malfoy's expertise and the fact that he hadn't, as mentioned, had sexual contact of any kind for days.

Malfoy rose to his feet and switched positions with Harry. "No time to actually fuck tonight," he explained.

"Really?" Harry asked, leaning forward to get the job done.

"Too tired. Haven't slept all day."

Harry licked the tip of Malfoy's cock. "Why?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are idiots," Malfoy gasped.

Harry chuckled, then stopped asking questions. Malfoy came just as quickly as Harry, and then they were getting dressed again. "Last night was fun," Harry said. "Even though I can't remember most of what we did."

Malfoy looked at him oddly. "Yeah," he replied.

"What?" Harry asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Malfyo said hastily.

"No, seriously, what's wrong?" Harry needed to know; there was something about last night that was screaming at him in the back of his brain, but he just couldn't quite recall what it was for the life of him.

"We were drunk. Probably didn't mean anything." Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, then exited the closet.

Harry followed him, nearly stepping on his heels. "Malfoy," he said sharply, "what happened?"

Malfoy whirled around. "It was probably just drunken stupidity, so forget about it, okay?"

"How the hell can I forget about it if I don't even know what 'it' is?" Harry snapped.

"Exactly," Malfoy replied. He started to walk away again.

Harry grabbed his arm. "No. Tell me," he commanded.

"Let. go. of. me," Malfoy said slowly, his voice low. It wasn't a dangerous tone; he was nervous. Something had happened the night before and Malfoy _did not _want Harry to remember what it was.

"This is stupid," Harry spat. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable knowing that Malfoy was so freaked. Maybe it was because the last time Malfoy had been nervous, Harry had been close to paranoia. "All of these mind games... they're driving me crazy. I'm seventeen, for fuck's sake." He let go of Malfoy's arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I still want to know, though."

Malfoy sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "You'll remember eventually," he said, sounding regretful, apprehensive. "If it helps, you asked me a question." With that, he turned around and left Harry standing in the darkened corridor.

A question? What question? Harry couldn't remember what he'd asked Malfoy. And it was probably something big, too. He hoped he'd be able to find out what the hell had happened before the weekend was over or he would not be able to focus in his classes. And he had to actually show up in class because, aside from his excuses wearing thin, he needed to get caught up or he'd fail. Harry sighed and ambled along the corridor. So he'd asked Malfoy something. Had Malfoy given an answer? Either he had, what with his being so apprehensive, or he had been going to give him one tonight. Harry scuffed the heel of his shoe against the floor. "Damnit," he cursed under his breath. He was never going to drink that much ever again.

0000

Sunday morning and Harry felt as close to normal as he could possibly be. And he still couldn't remember what he had done on Friday night for the life of him. He threw on whatever clothes were within reach, regardless of whether or not they were clean, then went to the library to finish his homework. He was pulling a book off the shelf for his Transfiguration assignment when Pansy tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, hot stuff," she murmured jokingly.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean by 'what?' Can't a girl say hi without a reason?" She leaned against the bookshelf.

"A girl, yes. A _Slytherin _girl... it's unusual, that's all." Harry shrugged. "It'll take some getting used to. So you don't have any particular reason for walking up to me and saying hi?"

"First of all, I didn't say 'hi,' I said 'hey,'" Pansy replied. "And second of all, I actually do have a reason."

"Oh?" Harry made his way to the table he had claimed as his own for the day; he'd definitely be there all day due to the amount of homework that had piled up because of his absences. He dropped the stack of books he had collected onto the table and grimaced.

Pansy noticed and laughed. "I can help, you know," she offered. At Harry's questioning look, she grinned. "Free of charge."

Harry scoffed. "Right. You won't charge me, just like you didn't have a reason to talk to me."

"Hey, a Slytherin talking to a Gryffindor is news in this school. And I like to make news; good publicity. Even if people hate me for it." Pansy crossed her arms. "I just wanted to let you know that I saw you with Draco last night."

Harry looked at Pansy, studying her intently. "And?"

"And nothing. I'm not going to tell anybody. Hell, I'm not even going to bring it up again unless you ask me about it. Promise," she added at Harry's disbelieving look. "I just wanted to ask you if you've told anybody about it yet."

"No," Harry replied. "But Dean knows. That is, if he isn't too drunk to remember."

"Dean's cool. Not that I've talked to him or anything. I'm just a pretty good judge of character." Pansy shook her hair out of her eyes. "You have to be in my world." Harry's eyebrows raised in question. "Don't ask," Pansy warned. "So Dean's the only one who knows... besides me?"

"Like I said, if he remembers. We were all pretty messed up at the time."

Pansy nodded. "Right. You know that if you don't tell your best friends soon, they're going to find out all on their own, right? And you know that, not only will they be shocked that you're seeing _Malfoy_... let alone a _Slytherin_... they'll be angry and hurt that you figured you wouldn't be able to tell them?"

Harry sank into a chair. "Yeah," he sighed. He laughed humorlessly. "They don't even know I like guys."

Pansy exhaled. "That's a tough one. You should have seen the looks on my friends' faces when I told them I like girls."

Harry looked up sharply. "Really?" he asked after a moment.

Pansy smiled. "Yeah. Millie and I have been together for a little over a year now. We just keep it under wraps because of... you know, the rumor mill?"

"No. What is this rumor mill you speak of?" Harry asked sarcastically. "I was the alleged Heir of Slytherin in our second year, remember?" He rolled his eyes. "They were so convincing I thought _I _was for awhile, too."

Pansy laughed. "You ain't a Slytherin, baby."

Harry shrugged. "Not according to the Sorting Hat," he replied. At Pansy's inquiring look, he grinned. "Every time I encounter that thing, it tells me I have the potential to be great in Slytherin. It really pisses me off sometimes. Particularly when I was trying to convince myself I was _not _the Heir. Didn't help that I was a Parseltongue and I could hear the damned basilisk sliding through the pipes."

"Huh. That must have been a blast." Pansy shuddered. "I'd have hated to be the Heir."

"Really?" Harry asked incredulously. "_The _Slytherin? Well, the second Slytherin, anyway, considering Salazar."

"Potter, I may be proud to be in Slytherin and I might find Muggle-borns a nuisance, but I don't want them dead." Pansy fiddled with a piece of parchment. "Nobody deserves to have their life taken away from them. It's just too precious."

Harry nodded. "How many people in your House feel that way?"

"Probably everyone," Pansy replied. "Come on, it's one thing to be nasty to someone. It's another to want them dead. And it's a whole other level to actually follow through with that wish and kill them." She shuddered. "And don't think I know this from personal experience. Well, it's in my family, anyway. My parents are constantly worrying about what _He _wants, and my older sister, Violet, was just initiated at the end of last year." She held her head in her hands. "You _change _when you kill someone, Harry. You're never the same again. Violet used to be so fun. She was hilarious. Now she doesn't even smile."

Harry reached out and rubbed Pansy's arm awkwardly. "Watching people die changes you, too."

Pansy looked up. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said honestly. "One year it's Diggory, and the next year it's... yeah, I know about Black," she confirmed. "Heard about it through my parents. Not directly, though. They were talking about it in the living room one night. Idiots. They'll get themselves killed." They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, then Pansy stood up. "I've got to finish my homework, too. Remember what I said about telling your friends, okay?" She smiled at Harry weakly, then left the library.

Harry stared at the door for a minute or so, then shook his head incredulously. "Did I just have a heart to heart with a Slytherin?" he asked nobody in particular.

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Harry stumbled up to the tower around eleven, cursing the mountain of homework Snape had given him to make up for his absences. And he still needed to finish his Charms homework. Fortunately he didn't have to worry about that until tomorrow, since he didn't have to see Professor Flitwick until Tuesday. He entered the Gryffindor common room, tripping over the portrait hole and nearly falling flat on his face. He picked up the homework he had dropped, then set it down messily on the table.

"Drunk again, Harry?" Seamus asked from the couch. His voice was slurred.

"No, just tired. You?"

"No. But I've got some of this," Seamus said, holding up a bottle of Everclear.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Finnegan, hide that before someone sees it!" Harry hissed. He looked around the room, then listened for anyone moving about upstairs.

"Nobody'll come. It's late." Seamus sank into the couch so that his legs were stretched out across the floor. "I couldn't sleep so I borrowed some of this from Dean." He explained. He looked up at Harry expectantly. "Want some?" Harry shook his head. "Oh, come on, Harry," Seamus whined. "It's no fun by myself."

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over to the couch slowly. "Just a little bit," he warned.

"That's more like it." Seamus smiled, handing Harry the bottle. "What do you think everyone would say if they found out we did stuff like this?"

"Teachers would expel us. Students wouldn't believe it." Harry swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol. "I hate this," he muttered.

"Then why do you drink it?" Seamus asked.

"Because it's addicting. Because people like you don't stop nagging me to. Because I'm an idiot who can't think for himself." Harry closed his eyes, waiting for theEverclear to affect him. He didn't have to wait long. "Ugh," he moaned, covering his eyes with his arm. "Why the hell did we start doing this shit anyway?"

"Because a bunch of guys at Deity basically had us at knife point," Seamus replied groggily. "It's amazing we didn't kill ourselves."

"Yeah," Harry murmured. He moved so his head was in Seamus' lap and stretched himself out on the couch so his feet were sticking out past the armrest. "I hate doing stuff like this."

"Me, too," Seamus replied.

"And yet we still do it."

"Yep. We should stop."

"Definitely."

"Soon."

"Uh-huh."

"Starting tomorrow."

"Absolutely."

"Or next weekend."

"Of course."

"Or we could just wait until after finals are over."

"Seamus, shut up. You're confusing me."

"Sorry." Seamus giggled. "I'll make it up to you." He bent over and kissed Harry awkwardly. Harry pulled back a little, then kissed him back, feeling extremely groggy.

After a few minutes, he shook his head and sat up. "Damned Everclear," he cursed, rubbing his eyes. He stood up carefully. "Come on, we'll help each other get up the stairs." He held out a hand to Seamus, who took it and pulled himself up slowly.

After a few minutes of trying to get up the stairs, Seamus yawned. "Maybe we should just go back to the couch and sleep there tonight before we kill ourselves."

Harry looked back at the couch, then nodded. "Yeah. And get rid of that Everclear."

"Right," Seamus replied. Both of them knew that thealcohol was still going to be kept at the bottom of Dean's trunk.

0000

Harry woke up around four o'clock in the morning, knowing he would not be able to get back to sleep. He made his way up to his dorm, swallowed some aspirin to fight the headache he knew would arrive sometime before classes started, then grabbed his Charms homework so he could finish it in the common room. He sat back down on the couch and pushed Seamus' legs out of the way gently so he wouldn't wake him up, then finished his homework within fifteen minutes. By the time he was done, he was tired again but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep without being unable to focus in class. So he stood up, found his towel, and went to take a shower.

When he came back out, Dean was sitting on the couch next to Seamus, and they were talking. "Hey," he called in greeting, running his hands through his hair. He had the towel wrapped around his waist since he'd forgotten to grab a fresh set of clothing.

"Hey yourself," Dean shot back. "You don't look like shit."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning.

"Seamus, here, on the other hand..."

"Hey!" Seamus complained, swatting at Dean's arm half-heartedly. "I'm gorgeous."

"Sure you are," Harry said sarcastically. "Go take a shower before classes start or Snape'll find you out as soon as you walk through the door."

"Fine," Seamus said, mock-pouting. "How about I borrow your towel?" he said mischievously, reaching out playfully to snatch Harry's towel away.

"How about I hide everything you've got in your trunk?" Harry asked.

"You can hide my shit, too." Dean said.

Seamus immediately clamped his hands to his sides. "See you in a few," he said. He skipped off to find his towel, singing, "I'm off to take a shower," and clicking his heels together occasionally.

"That boy is messed up," Dean commented, staring after Seamus.

"Without a doubt." Harry agreed, nodding.

"And I love him for it."

"Don't know what I'd do without him." Harry sat down next to Dean.

"What, are you going to go through the whole day wearing that ensemb?"

"Sure, why not?" Harry said, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes.

"It would definitely be the fashion statement of the year." Dean grinned. "With the exception of that one time when Levon Firth streaked across the Quidditch pitch last year."

"That was definitely a statement to be reckoned with."

"Uh-huh." Dean looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "So, about the other night..."

Harry turned to face Dean. "Yeah?"

"What's going on there?"

"I'm not honestly sure," Harry replied. "And I don't really feel like talking about it at the moment."

"All right." Dean nodded. "And I'm not even going to say that I'm here for you if you need me, because I'm sure you already know that."

"Yep. Thanks." Harry stood up. "I think I'm going to wear clothes after all."

"Too bad. You would have sent a shockwave through the school."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe some other time."

"It will be the newest fashion craze. Everyone'll be running around in what they'd call 'shower chic' or something lame like that."

Harry shuddered. "God, no." He hurried up the stairs and changed into his school clothes, then returned to the common room.

Dean was still sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He turned around to look at Harry when he joined him on the couch. "So we got pretty fucked up on Friday."

"Yeah."

"Want to go again this weekend?"

"If nothing comes up, sure."

"Looking forward to it."

"Don't be too expectant. You never know what'll happen in this place."

"Expectant for what?" Seamus asked, entering the room.

"This weekend," Harry replied.

"You mean You Know Where?" Seamus asked, whispering loudly.

"Yes, now shut up," Dean muttered.

Seamus nodded. "I'm there. Definitely."

"It's not definite yet, Seamus," Dean said. "It depends on whether or not any of us have plans."

They never went to Deity unless all three could go; it wasn't fair to the person who got left behind, and there was more of a chance of coming out of the place alive if they went together. Seamus eyed Harry. "It's karaoke night on Friday, Harry," he said pleadingly.

"We'll see, Seamus." Harry inhaled deeply. "I need a smoke." Dean started to reach into his pocket for a cigarette. Harry held out his hand. "No. I need to cut back." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go down to the Hall for breakfast."

"I'll go, too." Dean said, standing up. "It's getting boringup here."

"Well, I can't be here by myself," Seamus complained.

"So, what's keeping you?"

0000

Harry couldn't stop staring at Ron and Willow. And every time he looked at them, he felt a fresh wave of jealousy wash over him, followed by a stab of guilt; he shouldn't be angry with his best friend for falling in love with someone... and having that someone love him back... before he did. Besides, Hermione was going through hell, too. But that still didn't keep him from feeling miserable. He stabbed into his grapefruit and shoved a bite into his mouth.

"What did that grapefruit ever do to you?" Hermione asked. She ripped a roll in half and started buttering it savagely.

"I don't know about this grapefruit," Harry remarked, "but that roll must have done something really bad to piss you off so much."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "It's my way of getting through it."

"What, beating up your food? Okay..." Harry held up his hands protectively when Hermione threatened to smack him with her knife, "whatever works for you." It was then that he noticed Malfoy signaling him. He realized Malfoy had been trying to get his attention for awhile when hetook inhis annoyed expression. He nodded. Malfoy talked to his fellow Slytherins for a few more minutes, then left the room casually.

Harry talked to the people sitting around him about nothing in particular until he was pretty sure a considerable amount of time had passed, then left the Great Hall, saying he was going to the bathroom. He met up with Malfoy in the usual place.

0000

"You have no idea how great it is for me having things back to normal," Harry said, zipping up his jeans.

"Probably the same way it is for me," Malfoy replied, stretching out his arms. "Of course, you could have been a bit easier, considering I have to sit down during classes."

"All the more reason for us to keep up the normal routine, then." Harry shrugged into his robes, then straightened his tie.

"Right." Malfoy combed his hair with his fingers. "How do I look?"

Sexy. "Fine. How about me?"

"Normal."

Harry snorted. "Thanks."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What, did you want me to say you look beautiful? Ravishing? Irresistable?"

"I'm not even going to reply to that," Harry said calmly. Malfoy had sounded so damn sarcastic that it made him want to scream. And he was pissed off because he didn't know why. "You know this talking thing we do after we have sex? We shouldn't do it anymore." Because it was going to mess everything up even more.

"'Talking thing?' This isn't talking, Potter. This is called avoiding talking. I'd know, what with it being the mainmethod of conversation in my family."

"Fine. Then we won't not talk anymore as well." He didn't want the deal to end; how else was he going to have sex at school?

"We weren't supposed to in the first place, considering the terms of the deal and all."

"Well, it takes two to have a conversation, you know."

"Not necessarily. And you started the whole talking thing, anyway."

"We sound like girls." Fine. Throw The Mistake in his face, then.

"You started that, too."

Arrogant bastard. "That's it," Harry said, fists clenching, "I'm out of here."

"And there goes Potter, the king of meaningless confrontations." Malfoy waved dramatically.

"No, that would be you, Malfoy," Harry spat. "And if you need another sexual pick-me-up, you can go fuck yourself for all I care." And with that, he stormed out of the room. So much for following the normal routine again. Harry sighed and walked slowly to his Charms class, wondering what the hell he'd just done. Fucked things up again, that's what. And why? Because he was messed up in the head.

0000

Harry and Ron ran into Potions late. Harry because he wanted to avoid seeing Malfoy as long as possible, and Ron because he'd wanted to make out with Willow. Their tardiness resulted in the usual ten points each from Gryffindor, and they sat down on either side of Hermione, who gave each of them an admonishing glare.

Ten minutes into the class and Harry felt like he was in hell. Snape was his usual self, Malfoy made it a point to not even glance in his direction, Ron kept talking about how great Willow was, Harry was so intent on getting Malfoy to forgive him so they could have sex again that he couldn't concetrate long enough to make the potion Snape had instructed them to brew, Dean and Seamus kept asking him what to do and he eventually had to tell them to shut up and leave him the hell alone, and Hermione wouldn't help him or Ron because they'd been late. So he'd inevitably fucked up the potion before Neville even had the chance to take the spotlight for himself, and Snape had deducted more points and made an example of Harry's stupidity. This resulted in Harry's leaving Potions, cursing everybody he could think of. Particularly Malfoy, who he had decided was an annoying, self-absorbed, two-faced asshole.

He sat down next to Dean and Seamus during lunch since Ron was sitting at Ravenclaw table with Willow, and Hermione wasn't talking to him. He looked at Dean before saying, "We're definitely going this weekend. Or at least we are as far as I'm concerned."

Seamus grinned. "All right," he said, his mouth full of apple.

"I'm in," Dean stated. "What was up with you in Potions?"

Harry sighed. "You know why I was so sick on Saturday?"

"Yeah..."

"Same thing today."

Dean nodded sympathetically. "Don't screw with yourself too much, okay?"

Harry shrugged. "I try not to. It just happens."

Seamus had been watching the exchange, a confused expression on his face. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" he asked.

"Forget it, Seamus," Dean replied. "You already know too much." He got up and left.

"But I don't understand!" Seamus complained, perplexed.

"Exactly," Harry said before leaving as well. Seamus looked down at his empty plate for the rest of the lunch break as if it could give him all the answers if he just stared long enough.

0000

By the time classes were over for the day, Harry was completely miserable. He'd started a fight with Malfoy for no reason, and now Malfoy was pissed. And when Malfoy was pissed, there was no sex. And when there was no sex, Harry was even crazier than he was normally.Stupid Malfoy. Harry slammed his head against the table, ignoring the many people who hissed at him for not being quiet in the library. He groaned when the pain from the impact with the hard wood finally hit him, and when the crowd hissed again, he flipped them off.

"Someone's a bit touchy," Pansy remarked, sitting in the chair next to him.

Harry sat up, rubbing his forehead. "You noticed?"

"Well, you do mask it rather well," Pansy said sarcastically.

Harry shook his head. "If you don't have anything nice to say to me, leave before I go crazy."

"You're already crazy, honey," Pansy said sympathetically. "If it's any consolation, however, Draco is just as messed up as you are right now."

Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically.

Pansy grinned ruefully. "We're all avoiding him right now because he's making us miserable. Can't say a damn thing to him without his biting your head off."

"He looked like he was going to bite my head off when I left Potions today."

"Actually, if you can believe this, he's taking his anger out on everybody else. He hasn't mentioned your name once today."

"That probably means we're worse off than I thought. This is great," Harry moaned, letting his head bang against the desk again. "I'm not going to have sex for at least a week."

Pansy laughed ruefully, brushing the nape of his neck with her fingertips. "Sorry, sweetie." She started picking at the edge of the table. "I don't know if this helps or anything, but I'm having problems with Millie right now, too."

"Really, now." It helped a bit, but Harry was too sulky to admit it.

"Yeah. She asked me what I want to do after school's over. I don't know how to tell her how I feel about the whole thing. She's annoyed now, to say the least." Pansy grimaced. "I guess I'm just not all that articulate when it comes to saying what I want to do with my life."

"What _do _you want to do?" Harry asked, sitting up again.

"I'm not sure. I know what I _don't _want to do, however," Pansy replied. "I _don't _want to be a... a Death Eater, I _don't _want to leave Millicent."

"Did you tell her this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what she feels. She hasn't told me what _she _wants to do about our relationship, or how she feels about her possible alliance with... _Him_."

"Sounds like you need to talk before you ruin what you have," Harry commented.

"What about you?" Pansy asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "We don't have what you have. When school's over, we're over."

"Really?" Pansy asked. "Are you sure?"

"I... yes." Harry knew he didn't sound in the least bit convincing.

Pansy nodded. "Okay." She rose to her feet. "I hope one of us can wake up and face the truth soon."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry felt like crying.

0000

Harry was struggling to understand the difference between an illusion and a mirage... it was late and he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone read the damned book... when someone sat down next to him. He looked up and found Malfoy sitting gracefully, yet casually, ina chair. Harry quickly scanend the room and saw nobody else was there anymore, and Madam Pince was in her office, trusting Harry not to do anything "juvenile." And he felt a twinge of what very well might have been disappointment when he realized that the only reason Malfoy had dared to sit next to him was because no one was there to witness such a marvel. "What do you want?" Not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't start another fight between them, he kept his mouth shut and waited for Malfoy to tell him what was on his mind.

"Fighting with you means I don't get to have sex," Malfoy said, getting to the point, "so I decided we should just drop whatever the hell you freaked out about this afternoon."

"Whatever the hell I freaked out about?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Well, you did freak out for no apparent reason." Malfoy shrugged.

That comment annoyed Harry. It annoyed him because it was the truth. "What?"

"Oh, never mind. I overreacted, too."Malfoy paused for a moment, then waved his hands. "Look, could we just have sex already? Being angry with you all day has driven me completely out of my mind."

No. Bastard. "Sure. Let's go." Hm, his mouth and his brain just weren't quite connecting today. He followed Malfoy out of the library and into another one of the numerous supply closets in Hogwarts and promptly began to remove his clothes while Malfoy did the same. Okay, so when it came to sex, Malfoy had Harry on a tight leash. And he probably knew it, too, the asshole.

0000

Malfoy had left the closet, leaving Harry brooding on the floor. The sex had, inevitably, been hard, hot, and utterly mind-blowing. Just like it always was. But part of Harry was still empty, unsatisfied. And it pissed him off to no end. Damnit, Malfoy. "Son of a bitch," Harry muttered, glaring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. It wasn't really Malfoy's fault. He hadn't purposefully screwed with his mind and made him miserable. He hadn't made him hate the kind of person he was becoming. But still, every time he agreed to have what he and Malfoy had dubbed "meaningless sex," he felt he lost a part of himself. It was like he was succumbing to something that made him feel powerless and... dirty. But that was ridiculous, right? Of course.

0000

Okay, out of all the chapters I've written so far, I think this one was my least favorite. The funny thing is, when I write a story, my fingers pretty much do all the work. I mean, I don't even think about what I'm writing. It's like I get possessed or something; the story's already there, it's just using me to get itself written. Scary. So when I read through this chapter after it was all done, I almost punched the monitor. Ugh. Harry's so frustrating! The next chapter's in Draco's perspective. Finally. I've been waiting to see more of Draco's mind, and now here it comes (once again with the story taking me where it wants to go thing)! Oh, I have a few sidenotes. First of all, I'll be posting the eighth chapter of Running To Stand Still as soon as this story's over. Second of all, I got a few complaints for taking a story I'd previously posted (Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality) off the site, but I only removed it so I could rewrite it so the chapters are longer and there's more quality. I'll be reposting that as soon as Running To Stand Still is finished. And as soon as Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality is over, I've got an idea for an Oliver/Harry fanfic... yeah, I know, I write a lot of slash fiction. I think that's only because there's more possibility to a slash fic (it's not likely to happen, so you can take it anywhere you want it to go). Does that make any sense? Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know I have more fics in the making, so I won't stop posting stories any time soon. Merry Christmas! Hope you get every single thing you want!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

A/N: I've decided to get chapter fifteen out of the way as soon as possible. This chapter focuses on Draco's thoughts and feelings. I don't normally do this because it's confusing and annoying, but this chapter is going to be half-present time and half-flashback. The flashbacks will be in italics to make things slightly less confusing. But the flashbacks are important, so you'll just have to put up with them (if you decide to read this, anyway). Anyway, read if you want to, and happy holidays! Side note: the song this chapter is based on happens to be one of my favorites by Breaking Benjamin (not necessarily for the music, but for the lyrics).

Disclaimer: The song I used in this chapter is Sevendust's "Xmas Day."

0000

Chapter Fifteen

"How can I believe when this cloud hangs over me?

You're the part of me that I don't want to see"

"Forget It," Breaking Benjamin

Draco punched his pillow again, cursing himself for... yet again... leaving Potter before he was... satisfied. No, it wasn't his fault. It was Potter's. Because Potter always messed everything up. Damn him. Draco sat up and looked at the clock on Blaise's night stand, squinting his eyes. It was only one o'clock in the fucking morning. He sighed and flopped back on his pillow, gnashing his teeth together. Damn that arrogant, whiny bastard with his messy black hair and bright green eyes...

_It hadn't been easy to spot Potter amongst the throngs of people on the dance floor. But when he'd finally found him, Draco had frozen long enough to get jostled in the ribs and nearly shoved forward onto his face. Making his way up to the dais and trying to look casual... in other words, like he wasn't actually trying to catch Potter's attention... he pressed upagainst the guy dancing in front of Potter and started moving to the music, noticing early on that his dancing partner was miles past "out of it." That was all very well though, because that meant Draco could focus on Potter without having to pretend to be interested in... whoever he was dancing with. So he watched Potter dance wildly, taking in his choice of clothing and make-up, which made him look like... in Draco's opinion... a fallen angel. It made him want to, put quite frankly, jump him and fuck him right there on the floor. And then Potter's eyes opened and he was looking right back at him._

_Draco resisted the urge to gulp nervously, unable to look away. And Potter stared right back at him. Then he noticed Potter's eyes traveling downward, taking him in slowly. Fair enough; he'd taken care of his staring earlier when Potter hadn't noticed. And then Draco felt something... electric... pass between them, almost making him shiver. He was opening his mouth to say something when some asshole of a guy came up and wrapped his arms around Potter._

_The stranger called Potter "Ash." Where had Draco heard that name before? And then Draco felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. Potter couldn't be _the _Ash, could he? From what he'd heard about the popular club regular... then again, Potter _had _been surprising him right and left lately. Then Draco noticed that the stranger had annoyed Potter, and Potter was yelling at him. When the stranger backed away, Draco couldn't help but throw a triumphant smirk in his direction when Potter wasn't looking. 'That's right,' he mouthed, 'keep moving.'_

"_Jackass," he yelled before he could stop himself._

And things had managed to go downhill and uphill at the same time from there. Draco sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the way Potter had smelled, the way he'd looked, the way he'd danced... he remembered everything about that night. And after everything he'd heard about Ambrosia... well, he'd only hadtwo glasses of the blue liquid, andthey had both been diluted. But it wasn't fair; he remembered everything, and Potter didn't seem to be able to recall anything. When he'd approached Potter to talk to him about Friday night and he'd found out that Potter didn't remember... Draco had felt a mixture of relief and... very deep regret. He'd almost told Potter everything, but he'd held back; what if everything they'd talked about had been drug induced? He didn't want to ruin what they already had.

Not that Potter hadn't ruined the deal plenty of times. And all in the past couple of weeks, too. Draco snorted and moved his arm over his eyes. But both he and Potter had had their share of breakdowns, and they were starting to wear the deal a little thin. A few more moral attacks and they'd be over. Things would be "normal" again. But Draco had come to think of the deal as normal, so if that ended... he didn't want to think about it. Besides, they might have gotten themselves into more trouble on Friday by being caught by Thomas. And did Finnegan know yet? And he knew Pansy had figured it out. And this was supposed to be a secret between him and Potter. Bloody perfect. Damnit. But there was still a part of him somewhere that was glad that _someone _knew. It assured him that the deal actually existed; that he wasn't just dreaming the whole thing. Besides, the night he'd shared at the club with Potter had been worth it.

_Watching Potter dance to a song he had said was called "Swamped" had made it very difficult for Draco to join in; he had thought Potter had looked sexy before, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now. But eventually Draco felt the effects of the Ambrosia gripping him, and he danced along with him, relishing in how free and alive he felt. He'd come to Deity many times before, and it wasn't the drugs or the dancing that made him feel this way. It was Potter. There was no doubt about it._

_And the two of them went back and forth between the dance floor and the bar several times, but Draco only ordered Ambrosia twice because he found that he didn't want to forget this night. There was something about Potter... he was different in this place. It was like he opened up; allowed people to see him for who he really was. And Draco found the picture he made was strangely beautiful. And because Potter had shown Draco who he really was, Draco had decided to return the favor. That night was nothing but truth._

Draco opened his eyes, feeling the distinct burn of unshed tears behind them. He willed them away, blinking rapidly several times. When the threat of waterworks was quelled, he rolled over onto his side and tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. After a few minutes, he realized that this plan of action was not going to work. He groaned and smacked the mattress, then sat up. Running his hands through his hair, he cursed himself for the millionth time that day. For leaving so soon. For arguing with Potter. For not telling Potter what had happened on Friday. For being afraid to tell him. What had there been to lose? Nothing. Except for everything he'd allowed himself to dream at the club, and possibly his sanity in general. He'd allowed much of his hopes to rest on one tiny conversation he and Potter had had while under the influence of alcohol. Stupid.

But what was more frustrating was how he'd also almost pulverized the deal; ruined what he _did _have. He'd almost thrown away the one thing in his life that he found he actually cared about, made a commitment to. Sure, it was a lousy thing to commit to and it was over when they left Hogwarts, but he still cared about it. He made an effort to keep it standing. Even when Potter had bailed on him temporarily, he'd disregarded the incident and continued as if nothing had happened. It had been hard to forget about their argument over what Potter had asked. In fact, if Draco hadn't been convincing himself all weekend that his dreams were completely unrealistic, he wouldn't have been able to pretend like it hadn't hurt him. And Draco believed that it did more damage than the possibility of being shot down did; he was killing himself inside by not letting himself feel, not allowing himself to express his emotions when he _did _acknowledge his feelings. But he couldn't let people know because that would signify a weakness, and a Malfoy was never weak. Or, at least, a Malfoy didn't let anyone else know about his weaknesses. So Draco had been trying to forget about Friday night. He was _still_trying to forget. But the memories just didn't seem to want to leave his head.

_The song was "Learning To Fly," and that was exactly what Draco felt like he was doing. Dancing with Potter was like lifting off from the ground and soaring above the clouds. The people around them vanished, and it was just him and Potter. Dancing with him felt right. It felt like he'd been doing it, or wanting to do it, all of his life. The moment they started dancing together, Draco felt like his life had meaning; like it was okay to show yourself to someone._

_And then later that night another song had played. Potter had said it was called "Xmas Day," by Sevendust, but he'd said that he couldn't find anything in the lyrics that had anything to do with Christmas._

"_Maybe the song's about something that happened on Christmas day," Draco suggested._

"_Brilliant," Potter said, his words slurred with alcohol._

_Draco wrapped his arms more tightly around Potter so that neither of them would fall down, still moving them slowly to the music._

"_And I could be the one who would die to feel you breathe"_

_Draco closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of Potter's neck, inhaling the sweet,spicy scent of his cologne. Toward the end of the song, Draco heard Potter singing along, and Draco joined in._

"_I could break into a million pieces so just run as fast as you can from me_

_You mean everything"_

_And then Draco had felt exactly the way he had when listening to the Korn CD he had found in Potter's sweatshirt pocket; like someone was singing out his own feelings. He rubbed Potter's back with his hands, kissing his neck languidly, trying to convey his emotions to the boy he was dancing with._

Draco swallowed and closed his eyes in pain, mentally trying to bring back something that had been lost. He'd never liked nostalgia. He'd ridiculed many people who had said annoying things such as "if only." But now he found himself thinking along those liens. If only he'd found the courage inside him to speak up and remind Potter of what they had talked about on Friday. Or rather, what Potter had asked him. If only Draco had the strength to give Potter an answer to that question. Because there was something magical about that night. When he and Potter had danced together, flown together, it was almost like he was being reborn. Either that or he was actually living for the first time. And there was something about that feeling... almost as if there would be much more to come if they could just hold on. It was like he was being given a taste of a possible future. One that appealed to him and scared him out of his wits at the same time. And, being the kind of person he was, Draco paid more attention to the part that frightened him than the part that made him feel... real. So he'd kept the answer inside him. Would continue to hold that answer inside him until Potter remembered the question and asked it again. Because it was too late to tell Potter now, right?

Looking at the clock again, Draco growled and got out of bed; it was only half past two, but he wasn't going to sit in his damned dorm any longer; he'd go insane. He shrugged into his cloak and left the dorm, then the common room, making his way to the Astronomy Tower. When he finally reached his favorite spot on the roof, he sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge, looking up at the stars for guidance. When nothing came to him, he looked across the grounds at the Forbidden Forest. The grounds were silvery with moonlight and rising fog, and the tops of the trees looked like dark, mysterious shadows that stretched out to the horizon, reaching up and touching the stars that had decided to withhold the answers to the world's secrets from him for the night.

Maybe that's why Potter had been so frustrated when he'd refused to tell him what had happened at Deity; not knowing something was pretty damned annoying. But Potter's knowing the truth would probably be worse. If Draco told Potter and gave him an answer to the question he had asked, the deal would either change or end altogether. And Draco didn't want that because it was easy to follow, easy to live with. Then again, when was anything ever easy for him? He'd known the deal would end all along. And a few months after school was over, it would just be a memory. And soon he'd forget about it completely. Or so he hoped.

And then Draco didn't really care if it was so early in the morning; part of the deal was Potter's helping him forget about life, so why couldn't he take him up on that? Draco hurried back to the castle, then made his way up to Potter's dorm. However, when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he realized he didn't know the password. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath. "Um," he said, looking up at the lady, "excuse me, ma'am, could I go in there for a few minutes...?"

"Absolutely not. I've let strangers in here before and it's nearly cost me my life and the lives of others as well." The Fat Lady put her hands on her hips and squinted at him. "And you definitely do not look familiar to me."

"I... I'm a friend of... er... Harry's." Draco felt the words more or less rip out of him. He'd said Potter's name before and it had nearly cost him the deal. But at the same time, saying his name made him feel... strange inside. It almost felt... good.

"Is that so? Well, you're just going to have to talk to him tomorrow, then, won't you?"

Suddenly, someone opened the portrait from the other side quickly so as to muffle the Fat Lady's protests against the wall. Draco raised his eyebrows. "Thomas?"

"M-Malfoy? What are you doing up here?"

"I was... er... that is..."

"Come on in. Harry's up in our dorm."

Draco stepped inside, then went where he was directed, stopping at the door that led to Potter's dorm. Something about the situation made Draco feel odd. It was almost as if he was breaching the point of no return. Which was ridiculous. Draco shook his head and opened the door, entering slowly in order to make sure nobody noticed him. He shut the door quietly, then made his way to the bed nearest him. He peered in through the bed curtains. Nope, it was Finnegan. He backed away quickly, then moved on to the next one, which was empty; Thomas' bed. And next was Longbottom's, and further along he almost fell over backward when his face came inches away from Weasley's, who was sitting up and murmuring something about somebody named Willow. And the next bed was occupied by Potter. Draco found himself staring at Potter, who was lying on the bed peacefully, his lips parted slightly andhis features completely relaxed.

And then Draco didn't want to wake up Potter. He didn't want to have sex anymore. In fact, Draco was suddenly possessed with the strange urge to... watch Potter sleep. He removed his cloak and sat down on the bed slowly, freezing every time Potter so much as twitched. When he finally managed to stretch out on the bed next to the other boy, he shifted his position so he was more comfortable and just stared at Potter. He really did look... nice. Draco reached out a hand and ran his fingers along Potter's cheekbone, then his jaw. Then he moved his hand up and stroked his hair slowly, rhythmically. "You're beautiful," Draco whispered. And he was. And he didn't know it. Which was probably why Draco found him so sexy; just looking at Potter did all kinds of things to his body and Potter didn't even know it. Draco noticed the way everyone looked at Potter. He noticed the guys at the club. He didn't get angry around Potter because, firstly, he wasn't supposed to care because of the deal, and, secondly, he knew that Potter didn't feel anything for them. So he wasn't angry around Potter, but he was furious when he got to "talk" to Potter's admirers when they were alone. But soon he wouldn't be able to see Potter every day at school. He wouldn't be able to feel twisted up and fluttery inside. Because Potter would go his own way and do what he was supposed to do. But right now, watching Potter sleep, Draco didn't want him to. Because he was supposed to fight Voldemort. Potter could end up dead. And Draco found that he really, genuinely, did not want him to die. Merlin, help him, Draco wanted Potter to live. And Draco wanted to live with him, follow him through life. Or maybe they could walk side by side.

Dracoshifted so he was under the covers with Potter, then moved his hand so it was cupping the side of the other boy's face. He'd never be able to walk alongside him; even though Potter hated being called the Golden Boy, that was exactly what he was. He was perfect to Draco. He was his savior in the sense that he had come and lifted Draco out of the vortex that had threatened to suck him in forever. And since Potter didn't know this, they'd go their separate ways. And if Draco told Potter how he felt about him, they'd be parting long before the end of school. And that was probably for the best, because Draco would just make Potter miserable.

Pre-dawn light began to fill the room, spilling in through the slits in the bed curtains. It accented Potter's features, making him look like a different kind of fallen angel from the kind he had been on Friday night; he was an angel that had been forced to fall, had been dragged down to the earth in order to be a savior to mankind. And that was exactly what had happened to him. Looking at Potter that morning, Draco found that he was real. He was...

"Harry," Draco murmured, finally falling asleep, his arm draped across Harry's chest. Draco didn't care if this ruined the deal; the time he spent with Harry made him feel alive.

"_Malfoy," Harry whispered, tilting his head to expose more of his neck to Draco's lips._

"_Hm?" Draco asked, not pulling away._

"_Maybe we could... not end the deal when school's over...?"_

_Now Draco pulled back, regarding Harry calmly. "Why?" he asked, not letting Harry go when he tried to move away._

"_I... because... I don't want it to. You... Draco... I think I might love you."_

0000

A/N: I'm sorry for yet another short chapter, but there was really nothing left to say. Next chapter will be in Draco's perspective again! The story is a little over halfway done, and I'm already feeling a little sad about letting it go. Anyway, review and let me know what you think (please)!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

A/N: Hello, everyone! I just wanted to let the people that were confused about the outcome of chapter fifteen know that, yes, Harry did say he might love Draco. Because if you will kindly recall my author's note before the story actually started, I said flashbacks would be in italics. Meaning the part where that point of confusion occurred took place during a flashback. Warning: this chapter will be frustrating. Oh, and for those of you that have reviewed and told me you want me to write more Harry/Draco slash fics, don't worry; I already have another one in the making.

Side note: the song that this chapter is based on is one of my favorite songs, period.

0000

Chapter Sixteen

"I am losing you again

Let me out and let me in

'Cause you're not alone here, not at all

Let me belong here, break my fall"

"Break My Fall," Breaking Benjamin

Draco woke up, but kept his eyes closed. He could tell the sun had been out for hours because the bed was warm, and light was beating against his eyelids. He groaned and shifted his position so he could fit against the body he was lying next to more comfortably. Body? Draco's eyes shot open and he lifted his head up off of Harry's shoulder. He looked down and saw that Harry was still asleep. How late was it anyway? Draco peered through a slit in the curtains, noticing that the beds on that particular side of the room were empty. Harry's dormmates must have just left without waking him up. Some friends he had. Then Draco remembered running into Thomas the night before. Maybe he had something to do with their leaving them alone? He'd have to thank him later. Draco continued to stare at Harry, not caring if his arm fell asleep.

After a few minutes, Harry shifted and mumbled something in his sleep, his brow furrowed. Draco frowned and moved so he could stroke Harry's head. "It's all right," he whispered. "It's just a dream, Harry."

Harry relaxed, his lips parting slightly, and leaned into Draco's touch. And then Harry was opening his eyes slowly. "Morning," he yawned, stretching. Then his eyes widened and he sat up. "Malfoy? What..."

Draco covered Harry's mouth with his own, kissing him languidly. "Ssh." He traced a vein in Harry's arm down to his elbow.

Harry blinked. "What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"I don't know. We definitely missed breakfast, though. And first period, for that matter." Draco shrugged. "Do you care?"

"Yes, somewhat," Harry said, lifting himself up onto his elbows. "I've been missing so much class lately that... well, I _just _got rid of the mountain of make up homework I had."

Draco pressed against Harry's shoulders and pushed him onto his back gently. "Well, if you finished your make up homework, then what is there to worry about?"

Harry pushed his head deeper into the pillows to get away from the kiss Draco was attempted to plant on his lips. "I'll be getting more homework today, too," he protested.

"That isn't any different, is it?" Draco murmured, smoothing Harry's hair away from his forehead. "Besides, that Mudblood, Granger, will bring it to you, right?"

"Of course," Harry said, pushing himself away until his head banged against the headboard. "But Snape'll kill me if I miss any more of his classes."

"I'll make sure he goes easy on you," Draco purred, cupping both sides of Harry's face with his hands. He straddled Harry, then leaned in slowly to kiss him.

"But... but..." Harry stammered, weakening.

Draco swiped his tongue along Harry's lips before kissing him slowlyand forcefully. When he pulled away, Harry looked up at him... or rather, through him... with a dazed expression, his eyes glazed over. Draco held back a grin and straightened. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should go to class..."

Harry's hand shot out and snatched Draco's shirt, then yanked him down so he could kiss him roughly. "Bastard," he hissed, nipping Draco's ear.

Draco shivered and slipped his hands underneath Harry's T-shirt. "Mm, maybe if you convinced me to stay..."

"Convince _you_?" Harry asked incredulously. "_You're _the one that sneaked into _my _dorm, Malfoy."

"Yes, and I think I should probably leave now before we're found out..."

"Found out?" Harry wriggled out from beneath Draco and moved so he was on his knees. He planted his hands on Draco's shoulders and threw him down so he was lying on his back on the bed. He kissed Draco savagely, burying his fingers into the other boy's hair. He pulled away and stared down at Draco, who now looked just as dazed as Harry had a few seconds earlier. "You still want to leave?" Harry asked roughly.

"No, no," Draco said weakly. "I... this is fine. Right here."

"Good," Harry replied, "because I wasn't going to let you go anyway." He resumed kissing Draco.

Draco moaned into Harry's mouth and removed his shirt quickly, relishing in the feel of the other boy's hot skin touching his hands. Harry groaned and started to remove Draco's pants. Draco thought it was only fair to return the favor, so he tugged on Harry's boxers until they were down to his knees, and Harry backed away long enough to kick them off the rest of the way. He then yanked off Draco's pants and tossed them to the other side of the bed, then straddled Draco. "This is going to be fast," Harry warned, "and this is going to be hard." He bent over and bit the soft skin at the hollow of Draco's neck. "And it's most likely going to hurt."

"Fuck me," Draco ground out, bucking up into Harry.

Harry, needing no further encouragement, entered Draco and promptly began fucking the living daylights out of him. At one point, Draco realized the bed was moving around and he held on for dear life, hoping it didn't break. Harry was clinging to the headboard, using it for leverage to drive into Draco hard enough to make both of them shake. "Oh, fuck," Harry gasped between thrusts, "I'm going to come soon."

Draco reached up and dug his fingernails into Harry's shoulder blades. "Me, too. Merlin!" he shrieked, coming, the room seeming to be filled with a brilliant white light. Harry, no longer having a reason to hold on, let go and came as well, collapsing next to Draco, his head buried into the crook of the other boy's neck. Draco fought to breathe, his eyes closed. He reached out and rubbed Harry's back in slow, smooth circles.

Within a few minutes, their breathing returned to normal. "Jesus fucking Christ," Harry mumbled, his lips tickling Draco's skin. "That was bloody brilliant."

"Yeah," Draco replied, eyes closed. "I guess it was all worth getting you angry then, right?"

"What?" Harry asked, lifting his head up.

"I get you angry and we have the best possible sex there is."

Realization dawned on Harry's face. "Fuck," he cursed, his tone holding no real malice.

Draco smirked. "Later, definitely." He stretched out on the bed and inhaled deeply. "Your bed isn't half bad," he commented. "However, we will have to move it back to its original location before your fellow Gryffindors return."

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused. He poked his head out through the curtains, then drew back in quickly. "How the hell did we get all the way over here?" he asked, leaning over Draco to look out to the other side. "We're on the other side of the room!"

"I know," Draco replied, intent on the muscles of Harry's torso, which were stretched out above him. God, Harry was beautiful.

Harry moved so he was sitting back on his heels. "But this bed must way a ton!"

"Yeah," Draco said, grinning. "Way to go, Golden Boy."

Harry narrowed his eyes and frowned. "The only reason I'm letting you call me that right now," he said, "is because I've just had wonderful sex and I'm in too good of a mood to hurt you. Particularly because I want to do that again."

"And you think it's sexy when I call you Golden Boy."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No!"

"Just a little bit."

Harry groaned. "Fine, a little bit. Now, shut up."

"Anything you say, my little Golden Boy."

"Shut up!" Harry exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Draco.

Draco just laughed.

Harry lunged forward and pinned Draco against the bed. "Fine, asshole," he spat. "You asked for it." And then realization hit Harry. "You're just trying to make me angry so I'll fuck you again."

Draco sighed. "Damnit."

"Fine," Harry said. "Well, it's not going to work now." He moved away from Draco and sat with his knees pressed up against his chest and his back to the headboard.

"Oh, come on," Draco wheedled, slinking up to Harry. "You want to, too." When he received no response from Harry, he flopped onto his back. "I'm sorry, okay? But how else are we supposed to have angry sex ifyou don't get angry?" Still no response. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" He moved so he was sitting in front of Harry.

Harry looked away. "Yeah, so? Is that supposed to mean something to me?" He shrugged and made to get off the bed.

"Oh, no you don't!" Draco hissed, throwing Harry onto his back and spreading out on top of him so that they were stretched out across the bed horizontally. He nibbled a trail from Harry's neck to his jaw, then began to thrust into him just as savagely as Harry had a few minutes before. Harry's hands shot out behind him to grasp the bed curtains, pulling on them roughly every time Draco drove into him. Draco had to clasp the sheet, which proved ineffective when they moved with him. But they managed, and when they came, each of them screamed incoherently, with Draco ripping the sheet apart, and Harry yanking the bed curtains off of the railing.

"What the _bloody hell _are you _doing _to _my best friend_?"

Draco recognized the voice that was cursing his name and threatening to do evil things to him, but he couldn't quite make the connection because he had just had positively the best sex he had ever had in his entire life. And from the look of things, Harry felt the same way, due to his eyes being glazed over and his lips being twisted into a foolish grin. But reality came crawling back slowly when someone grabbed his neck from behind and began strangling him. Fortunately, he was saved by another intruder, who believed killing Draco was not the best way to handle the situation. Draco collapsed onto the floor, coughing and massaging his neck. He looked up to see who his attacker was and saw Thomas, Finnegan, and Longbottom holding back a wild, outraged Weasley. Shit.

"What the hell were you doing?" Weasley bellowed. "You'd better start running now, Malfoy, because as soon as I get these fuckwits _off _of me I'm going to _kill _you. I'm going to rip your _fucking _head off with my _bare hands_, you fucking _bastard_!"

"Ron! Just _back off_!" Finnegan gasped, digging his heels into the floor and hauling backward to keep his friend from killing Draco.

"He's not worth getting _expelled _over!" Longbottom was clutching one of Weasley's legs and crying.

"Forget expulsion. You're going to get yourself sent to _Azkaban_. Now cut it out!" Thomas roared, tackling Weasley to the floor.

"You mean you have no problem with seeing that... that... _Ferret _doing... _that _to Harry?" Weasley yelled, attempting to push Thomas away.

"No, shut up and listen to me, damnit!" Thomas smacked Weasley's hands away and pinned them to the floor. "What if Harry wants him to?"

It became clear that this was the wrong thing to say when Weasley froze for a second, his face becoming deathly pale. Then the color rushed back to his skin and he shoved Thomas off of him with such force that it sent him flying into the wall. "What?" he shrieked, leaping to this feet. "Harry! Is this true?" he asked.

Draco turned around slowly... he was rather nervous about having his back to Weasley at the moment... to catch Harry's response. Which there wasn't much of, because Harry was still lying on the bed, dazed. Draco held back a groan. If there was ever a time when Draco wished he hadn't shagged Harry senseless, it was right now.

"I think he's been shagged senseless," Finnegan remarked, approaching Harry's bed cautiously. He peered down at his friend, then lifted the ripped up sheet and covered him with it. "Yep, he's been shagged absolutely senseless. Way to go, Malfoy," he complimented. Draco just stared back at him, horrified. Finnegan had just assured his early death.

"What? Draco _fucking _Malfoy has shagged Harry _senseless_?" Weasley's voice was so loud that Draco was positive that everyone in the entire school had heard him.

"Shut up!" Thomas hissed, diving across the room and slamming the door shut. He locked it, then turned around. "Quick! Seamus, Neville, help me move this bed!" He was already attempting to shove Finnegan's bed toward the door. After a few seconds they managed to brace the door with the bed.

"Maybe we should have gotten Ron out of the room first," Longbottom remarked, studying Ron's murderous expression.

Finnegan gulped. "Forget Ron. Get _me _out of here!" He looked at the nearest window. "Do you think I'd die if I jumped?"

Thomas smacked Finnegan's head sharply. "Don't make it worse than it already is!"

"Well, it's not my fault that nobody tells me anything!" Finnegan retorted. "That's what you and Harry were talking about, wasn't it? The thing I already knew too much about? Hey, Malfoy and Harry were at..." Finnegan was promptly cut off due to Thomas' punching him hard on the face. He dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Thomas stared down at Finnegan in shock, then at his fist, then at everyone else in the room. "He'll be all right. Just a bruise..."

"What was he talking about?" Weasley asked, his tone low and dangerous.

"Er... well... that is..." Thomas leaped across the room, grabbed his broom, and flew out through the window, sending glass shards everywhere.

"What's going on? Has the world gone crazy?" Weasley bellowed, glaring at Longbottom.

"I d-don't know..." Longbottom replied, backing up into a corner.

"Weasley, will you _shut up _and _calm down_ long enough for me to explain?" Draco asked, wrapping the other half of the ripped sheet around him so his reasoning would be more effective... he couldn't very well talk to Weasley while he was naked... and threw a glance at Harry, who was still lying on the bed completely motionless.

"Calm down? How the hell did you expect me to react when I walked in here to see if Harry was all right and found him shagging his worst enemy?"

"Worst enemy? Wouldn't that be You Know..."

"Shut up, Neville!" Weasley barked. Longbottom sank down to the floor, whimpering.

"Quit yelling at your friends!" Draco snapped.

"Fine, I'll just yell at you, you prick!"

"Fine with me. Everybody else does anyway."

"Oh, keep talking, Malfoy," Weasley said through clenched teeth. "I'm going to rip you limb from limb you son of a bi..."

"Ron?" Harry's voice sounded from beneath the sheet. "What the hell is going on?" He sat up and took the sheet off of him, then clutched it to him again when he remembered he was still completely naked. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, shit! Ron, I can explain!" He stood up, wrapping the torn sheet around his waist. "It's not what you think!"

"Not what I think? Well, I think you were lying there letting Malfoy shag you senseless."

"Er... well, yes, that _is_ what it looked like, but there's a reason for it all..."

"How could you Harry? I mean, you didn't even fucking tell me."

"Well, we didn't tell anyone, Ron..."

"Dean and Seamus knew!"

"Well, Dean's knowing was an accident. He sort of saw us."

"And Seamus..."

"Isn't a dumbass and can put two and two together," Draco spat, irritated with Harry's feeling the need to "explain."

"And you're saying I can't?" Weasley shouted.

"You had to see us having sex to get the message, didn't you?" Draco yelled, not moving when Weasley came at him. "And even then you needed an _explanation_." He was prevented from speaking further when Weasley proceeded to strangle him again. But this time Draco was ready and he punched Weasleysquare onthe face. They immediately began to beat the shit out of each other.

"Stop it!" Draco heard Harry's voice yelling from somewhere in the distance. He couldn't quite place it, though, and he shrugged it off and kept hitting Weasley in the face.

And then there was a whirl of black and green, and something was holding Draco back, but then he saw Weasley snarling at him and he hit him again. And then he realized he wasn't hitting Weasley anymore. And Weasley wasn't hitting him. Because they were hitting someone else. And then Harry fell to the floor between them, hunched up and writhing in pain. "Oh, shit!" Draco whispered, dropping to the floor next to Harry. He looked up at Weasley. "Get the damned bed away from the door!" he shouted.

Weasley didn't need to be told twice. He reached into Finnegan's pocket, took out his wand, and after yelling "wingardium leviosa," managed to move the bed away from the door. He turned around to look at Harry. "Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit..."

"Weasley, if you aren't going to help me, then at least make sure nobody bothers us on the way to the infirmary," Draco ordered, lifting Harry up into his arms. Fortunately, Harry was small enough, and light enough... did he not each much? Draco would have to talk to him about that... for Draco to hold without dropping him.

Weasley stared at him for a few seconds, then hurried over to Harry's trunk. He pulled out Harry's invisibility cloak and draped it around Draco and Harry. "When he's okay," he said, "we're talking."

Draco nodded, then realized Weasley couldn't see him anymore. "Right," he said. "Can't wait." And he left the room and made his way to the hospital wing as quickly as he could. Harry was unconscious now. Small wonder, considering Weasley had been kicking at what he'd probably thought was Draco's head. How could you confuse the two? Oh well, it had happened, and now Harry was hurt.

Draco stopped just outside the hospital wing and set Harry on the ground gently, then removed the cloak; he didn't think Harry would like it very much if his secret was revealed to the staff. Particularly Professor Snape or Filch. He attempted to stuff the cloak into his pocket... then realized he wasn't wearing anything _with _pockets. He growled in frustration and picked Harry up again, managing to hide the cloak between their two bodies. What would Madam Pomfrey think? Well, he was about to find out. "Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled, entering the infirmary. "Madam Pomfrey!"

Pomfrey came around the corner. "What is it? What's the mat... oh!" she exclaimed, taking in the scene before her. Draco didn't know what surprised her more; Harry's injuries, the fact that Draco had brought Harry to her, or that both of them were only wearingseparate halves of aripped up sheet. Madam Pomfrey recovered quickly, though. "Put him on that bed over there. What happened?" she asked, eyeing Draco suspiciously.

"An accident. He got caught in the middle of something." Draco waved his arms impatiently. "Look, could you just get on with it? He doesn't lookso good."

"You're right," Pomfrey said grimly, still looking at Draco. "He doesn't." She walked over to Draco and looked him over. "None of your injuries are too serious, so you don't have any reason to be here." She turned away and removed the sheet that was covering Harry, looking over his cuts and bruises. Draco felt a surge of jealousy course through him... how _dare _she look at _his _Harry?... and he resisted the urge to strangle her just like Weasley had strangled him only a few minutes before. Then Madam Pomfrey turned around and noticed that Draco was still there. "What are you still doing here? I told you to go. Now, please leave." She more or less pushed Draco out of the infirmary and shut the door in his face when he turned around to protest.

"I hate that bitch," Draco cursed, fists clenched. Then he noticed that he was still holding the invisibility cloak. He wouldn't go in there now; he'd kill Pomfrey if he saw her with Harry. He'd come back later to make sure Harry was all right.

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Draco was resting... okay, he was hiding... in his dorm, refusing to let any of his housemates in. The rumormill hadn't yet spread word of his shagging Harry senseless, but it was only a matter of time. He sighed and took another swig from the bottle of whiskey he had taken from Blaise's trunk, trying to dull his worry about Harry's condition. Of course, this had to happen now, just when he was sure things were looking upin their relationship; he'd slept with Harry, no sex involved whatsoever, and waking up next to him had been one of the best things he'd ever experienced in his life. And Harry hadn't yelled at him, or told him to fuck off, or anything like that. No, they'd just had... unbelievable sex. And that sex had cost them their secrecy. Perfect. Just bloody perfect. Draco and Harry had finally taken some sort of step... Draco wasn't really sure if what they'd taken was a step toward, but they'd definitely taken it... and it all had to get fucked up. Draco had always hated Harry's friends, and now he really knew why; they messed everything up, particularly anything Draco found remotely pleasant. And now that Harry's friends knew, they'd probably try to get him to end the deal. Draco's throat closed up and he felt tears well up behind his eyes. No, that couldn't happen. God, anything but that. Just when he'd given in... everything always had to die out on him. But not Harry. He wouldn't let Harry give up on him. Draco sat up, rubbing at his temples. He had to go see Harry.

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Draco looked down at Harry, relieved to see that he was no longer in pain. All of his bruises and cuts had been treated, and he was sleeping. Draco sat down in the chair positioned next to Harry's bed and held his head in his hands. What would happen when Harry woke up? Would he buy in to his friends' protests? Thomas and Finnegan didn't seem to mind much... in fact, they seemed to be supporters of the whole thing. Would that help? He hoped so.

And then he felt it again; the empty feeling he experienced when something he truly enjoyed was drawing to a close. No, his relationship with Harry was not over yet. It couldn't be; it hadn't even really started yet. Harry had just opened up to him at Deity on Friday night. He'd let Draco see part of him; part of the real him. Draco would have to find a way to keep Harry with him. Bloody hell, they'd made a mess of things. And everything had been going so well... Draco should have taken that as a sign. Nothing ever went well for him unless he didn't want something to go well. Then it was bloody perfect. He had actually convinced himself that his relationship with Harry would work out. He'd allowed himself to rely on Harry, to think that maybe Harry was the one who could help Draco escape who everyone believed he was. Who everyone wanted him to be. He couldn't do it alone. He needed Harry to show him the way. They needed to show each other the way so they could break away from all of the hells they'd been through.

Harry rolled over onto his side, a frown playing at his lips. Draco reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Harry's eyes. He wanted to get away with Harry, but at the same time he wanted to get away _from _Harry. Because today he'd realized just how much Harry meant to him. What if something happened to Harry in the future? What if Harry left him? Just thinking about it made Draco feel like he'd been stabbed in the heart. But it was the way Harry made him feel when they were together that won him over; he felt alive. That night at Deity... he'd never forget that. And he knew that Harry felt the same way about everything. So they needed each other to belong... to live.

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A/N: Don't you just hate Ron in this chapter? I was seriously about to burst into tears (once again with the "I don't really know what I'm typing until I read it over" thing). Where is this going to go? You're going to have to wait until I post the next chapter to find out. Potential reviewers, have at it (please)!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Hey all! The new year's only a few days away! This particular chapter was probably the hardest to write so far. It's in Harry's perspective, and it's more about his thoughts and feelings than his actions. Thank you for boosting my confidence, reviewers!

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Chapter Seventeen

"'Cause I am my enemy

The water's up to the knee

I never wanted nothing from you

Yes I do

My engine's running on dry

My head's so fucked up inside"

"Water," Breaking Benjamin

Harry left the infirmary, still sporting a few bruises from the day before. He'd been an idiot and tried to step between two guys who were considerably taller than him, then had slipped on Seamus' robes and taken the fight down with him. Harry shook his head and sighed. He'd never get in the middle of a fight between Malfoy and Ron ever again. He fingered the small cut on his lower lip gently, wincing slightly. As far as fights went, that one hadn't been all that bad; he'd been in the middle of worse, what with his cousin Dudley and his friends being complete asses. And when he entered the common room, Ron didn't even mention what had happened in their dorm. Harry could sympathize with Ron; Malfoy was more or less Ron's archenemy, and they'd been having sex. And Harry was Ron's best friend. That had to work wonders on your sanity and general ability to rationalize.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Who did this?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking down at the floor, his face turning red. Ron hadn't told anyone. Harry cleared his throat. "I got caught in the middle of a fight," he mumbled. "I was trying to stop it."

"Who was fighting?" Hermione demanded.

"Never mind," Harry said quickly. "It's over now. I'm fine, okay?" he added when Hermione looked like she was about to press the issue.

Hermione pursed her lips together and squinted at him. "Okay... you're sure?" she said finally.

"Yes. And I'm tired, so I'm going to bed now." Harry walked away from Hermione as quickly as possible, and just as he reached the stairs he heard Ron say to Hermione, "I think I'm going to go to bed now, too." Great. Now Harry would get to find out if Ron was really okay with what had happened, or... well, if he was just "okay" with it.

Harry grimaced and slipped out of the clothes that Neville had brought him while he was in the infirmary, then leaped onto his bed. The house elves had replaced his ripped up bedding, and Harry burrowed his way beneath them gratefully.

Ron entered the room just as Harry found a comfortable position. Harry sat up, but Ron held out his hand. "Don't say anything, Harry," he said tiredly. "I want to talk first, okay?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip. He inhaled sharply, wincing, when his teeth rubbed against the cut there.

Ron moved toward the bed. "I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "I swear I didn't see you standing there. All I saw was that... prick," Ron breathed deeply, his fists clenched. "Sorry. But if you'd walked into the dorm yesterday and seen what I'd seen..."

"The others seemed to take it pretty well," Harry commented bitterly before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, but they're not your best friends. Or at least that's what I thought I was." Ron sat down on the foot of Harry's bed. "Why didn't you at least tell me you're gay?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know if you'd... you know..."

"What, approve? Come on, Harry. It's not like I don't already know people that are gay. I mean, look at Seamus." Ron smiled grudgingly. "I'm still sleeping in the same room as him, aren't I? And I don't treat him any differently. Well, sometimes, maybe. But that's only because he's insane." Ron shook his head. "I admit I lost it yesterday." He laughed ruefully. "More than lost it. Dean's flying out the window yesterday resembled my sanity. I mean, I _hit _you, Harry. I'd never do that intentionally. Unless you tried to steal my girl or something. And that's not likely to happen anytime soon."

"No. Willow's not my type," Harry said. "Listen, Ron, I can't say I was going to tell you, because Malfoy and I sort of made a... an agreement."

"So he's not like a boyfriend or anything?"

"No! No, he's not my boyfriend."

"Okay." Ron stood up, looking as if he didn't quite believe Harry. When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Ron shook his head. "I'm too tired to talk anymore, okay? See you in the morning." And with that he closed the curtains around his bed and went to sleep within minutes.

Harry sighed and stared at Ron's bed for a bit longer, envying Ron's ability to fall asleep. Harry hadslept for most of the time that he had been kept in the infirmary, and now he was restless. After a few more minutes of willing himself to go to drift off, Harry threw on a T-shirt, slipped on some shoes, and covered himself with his invisibility cloak. He exited the dorm quietly, cringing when the door creaked as it closed behind him. It took him awhile to get out of the common room because people were moving around, and it was rather quiet because Hermione had demanded relative silence so she could study. When Harry reached the exit, he wondered how he was going to get out of there without being noticed, then Ginny opened the portrait and entered the common room, givingHarry the opportunity to move out into the corridor before she closed it again. He bunched up the cloak more tightly around him, both to assure he wouldn't be seen and to keep warm, and hurried downstairs to the double doors that would let him out onto the grounds.

There were few places that made Harry feel less disconnected. Each place happened to be outside. He hurried down to one of said places, enjoying the feel of the cool night air. Reaching the lake, he sat down on the part of the shore that was dry and looked out at the water, which was breaking up the full moon's light. He came to the lake when he needed to think about things. And tonight, he really needed to think.

Harry sighed and looked up at the moon, wondering if it held the answers to his questions. What had he asked Malfoy? It had been days since the night at Deity, and still he couldn't figure out what had caused the fight between them. It had obviously been something big. Which made his forgetting it all the more frustrating. Sometimes he felt like he was on to something, like he was about to remember, and then it just slipped away from him. And they day before, he'd opened his eyes to find Malfoy lying there on the bed next to him. And from the look of things, he'd slept there, too. What was going on there? They'd never done that before. Malfoy hadn't ever allowed it. So why was he doing something like that now? Oh well, part of the deal was helping Malfoy forget... whatever it was he needed to forget. So if that was what Malfoy had to do to forget, then Harry would let it happen. Besides, it had felt sort of... nice, waking up like that. And the sex they'd had before his dormmates had intruded... that had been _very _nice. That had been the best sex he'd ever had in his life. And it would probably get better, too; Malfoy seemed like the kind of person that just kept surprising you.

Standing up, Harry shrugged off his cloak and kicked off his shoes, then waded into the shallower part of the lakeso he could still see if there was anything in the water besides him. He stopped moving forward when the water reached a little above his knees. He took off his shirt and threw it up onto the shore, then sank down to his knees slowly, pausing every once in awhile to let his body adjust to the temperature of the water. He sat back on his heels and let the soft waves press against him, staying as still as possible to remaininconspicuous to other creatures that might be in the water. There was something about the chill of the water that helped him see things... both physically and introspectively... more clearly.

And then the memory that had been pressing at the back of his mind finally broke through and he remembered what had happened at Deity on Friday night. He had asked Malfoy if they could extend the deal. He had called Malfoy... Draco. Oddly enough, that didn't seem to bother Harry too much. In fact, it made him shiver in a way that he knew wasn't brought on by the water. And he had told Malfoy that he loved him. No, not that he loved him. He had told Malfoy that he _might _love him. Ah, yes, that was so much better. Harry groaned and let his entire body slip beneath the surface of the lake. As usual, the cool temperature worked wonders on his brain and allowed him to think through the matter reasonably. Apparently his big mouth hadn't affected Malfoy too much. Actually, considering Malfoy's sneaking into his bed the day before, he had taken it all rather well. Did that mean...?

Harry lifted his head over the surface to breathe. Malfoy couldn't possibly feel the same way, could he? But that night at Deity had been amazing. And they'd been drunk. But yesterday had been incredible in another way altogether. Waking up with Malfoy had almost seemed... like they were lovers or something like that. It was all so confusing. Even the lake couldn't quite get Harry back into perspective again. Harry sighed in frustration and shook his head rapidly, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. Everything was getting so complicated. Malfoy had said that they could see other people, but neither of them had really paid attention to anyone else. Sure, Harry had asked Lavender out on a date, but that was only because he'd figured the deal with Malfoy was over. And Malfoy had also said the deal was supposed to be their secret, but now several people knew, and they'd danced together at Deity. And it had been one of the best experiences Harry had ever had in his entire life. Right next to flying on his Firebolt and having sex with Malfoy. Then again, he found that each activity sort of brought on the same sensation. He felt free; he felt alive. Great, Quidditch would never be the same again.

Pushing himself out into the water further, Harry dove beneath the surface, then came back up again quickly. He attempted to stand up and found that his feet still touched the ground. Good; he didn't want to go out any further... just in case. He dove again, attempted to get rid of the fog that had settled in his mind. After a few minutes of this, he moved back to his original spot and sat down in the water again. He shouldn't have said anything at Deity. Hell, it had all started when he'd thanked Malfoy that night in the supply closet. And what if things just continued to get worse between him and Malfoy? Maybe Harry would have to break away from Malfoy. Not completely... not yet. But he wouldn't if Malfoy didn't want him to. Which wasn't likely.

Harry growled and splashed the surface of the lake with his fist. The whole situation was starting to drive him crazy. Maybe he'd already been crazy. But now he was getting worse. Everything was getting worse. And the idea that what he and Malfoy had together would be over once school ended... it made him feel strangely empty inside. Like he was missing something vital in his life. And every time he fucked Malfoy and just left, he felt the same way. Harry inhaled deeply and looked up at the stars, which were brighter now because the moon had traveled further across the sky. All he could get from the stars was that he was, in fact, losing it. Also, due to their position in the sky, Harry guessed he'd probably been outside for at least two hours. And then he noticed that he was shivering. He rose to his feet and shook his body like a dog, then waded slowly out of the water, careful to make as little sound as possible. He jumped around in the chilly night air for a few minutes, then put on his shirt and cloak. He stepped into his shoes, not bothering to put them on all the way, and walked slowly toward the castle.

When he finally reached his dorm, Harry found that he was actually tired. He let his invisibility cloak drop to the floor and flopped down onto his bed, not even bothering to kick off his shoes. Within seconds, he was fast asleep and dreaming of things that he would either find impossible or just forget about altogether when he woke up in the morning.

0000

A/N: Yes, I know, that was a short chapter. Next chapter (and the chapter after that) will be in Draco's perspective. There are only a few chapters left, and I really don't want to let the story go, but I have to or I'll overwrite it and people will just lose interest. Or either I'll lose interest and end it badly just to get it over with. Boo hoo. Oh well, I'm most likely going to write _more _Draco/Harry fics in the future, along with the one I have to finish after _this _story is over. Plus I just got this idea for a Lucius/Harry fic (these usually don't appeal to me all that much, but it was either Lucius and Harry, or _Voldemort _and Harry, and I like that particular pairing even less. I mean, the fics that allow Harry to pair up with the younger Tom Riddle in a _believable _fashion are good, but that snakelike thing? Ugh!). Oh, and as for Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality, I'm going to post that under Harry/Draco, but that doesn't necessarily mean that that's what the story will end up being. Because there will be a lot of people vying for Harry's attention.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

A/N: Hey everyone! It's officially the new year! I'd say happy new year, but wishing someone a year of complete happiness is cruel because it's not likely to happen. Sorry, I'm currently in a rather pessimistic mood. Anyway, this chapter's in Draco's perspective (as I said it would be last chapter), and so is the next one (and I believe I mentioned that as well). Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighteen

"I follow you, you follow me

I don't know why you lie so clean

I'll break right through the irony"

"Follow," Breaking Benjamin

Of course Harry was late again. Just because he and Draco had been through a series of revelations over the past few days didn't mean that Harry would bother to make an effort to appear somewhere on time. Startlingly enough, Draco found that he wouldn't change Harry's tendencies to be tardy or to fall behind in things for anything; it was one of the characteristics that made Harry... himself. That and his disregard for stylish clothing. And despite the fact that... Brown... had bought Harry _tons _of new clothes, he still chose to wear what he classified as "comfortable."

Five minutes later, Draco was pacing the hidden conference room. What was taking Harry so long? Draco ran his hand through his hair and sighed for the umpteenth time, seriously considering taking up the annoying habit of nail biting. Perhaps Harry didn't want to see him anymore? Had the Weasel gotten to him? That son of a _bitch_. Just when they were _finally _starting to make some progress... toward what? Where had they been going? All Draco knew was that, waking up next to Harry on the bed, he'd felt better than he'd ever felt before in his entire life. And that was before they'd even had sex. And, frankly, that scared the hell out of him. Yet, here he was, waiting for Harry to come to the conference room. God, he was losing it. He had to get Harry away from his fit of insanity before he was infected, too.

"Losing what?" Harry asked.

Draco yelped and spun around. "Don't fucking _do _that to me!" he gasped, putting a hand on his chest.

Harry frowned. "Are you okay?" he asked, moving closer.

"Yeah... I just... um..."

"You look pale," Harry commented, reaching out to feel Draco's forehead.

Draco smacked Harry's hand away. "I always look pale," he snapped. "I was just waiting for you to get here. Thanks for taking forever and a half, by the way."

"Uh, it's only been five minutes since you signaled for me to come here," Harry replied. "Oh, and Professor McGonagall almost saw you, you know." He grinned. "Actually, it helped a lot. See, she saw me looking, and I told her I saw Peeves fly by and he was acting suspicious, so she ran out and went to look for him... what?" Harry asked.

"There's something different about you today," Draco said slowly.

"Different? Me? Why? How?" Harry asked, blinking.

Draco moved closer to Harry. "You nervous about something?"

"Me?" Harry asked, his voice just a bit higher than usual. "Why would I be nervous?"

"That's what I'm wondering. Did something happen...?" Draco asked. Harry couldn't possibly be thinking of ending the deal, could he? Damn that Weasel. Damn him straight to hell, right now.

"Are you... growling?" Harry asked, leaning forward.

"What? No. What are you talking about?" Draco scoffed.

"Well, you don't have to get angry at me."

"I'm not angry at you!" And he really wasn't; he was furious with Weasley. Not Harry.

"Then maybe you might want to stop shouting!"

"Who's shouting?"

"You are!"

"I am not!"

"You could have fooled me!"

"Who couldn't?"

Harry snorted. "Right. See you later, Malfoy." He turned around and made to exit the conference room.

"Wait!" Draco yelled. What the hell was he trying to do? Here he was, contemplating what he'd do to the Weasel for attempting to pull Harry away from him, and all he was succeeding in doing was making Harry actually _want _to get away.

"Why? Is there _any _possibility that we're going to have sex within the next fifteen minutes? Because I sort of have a _class _right now. You know, a class that I've been skipping repeatedly for quite awhile now? A class that I _just _finished _all _ofmy make up homework for? A class that I more or less _slipped out of _about five minutes ago without any real permission to do so?"

"Yeah, I know that class," Draco said, stalling for time.

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to get back to that class, then."

"Wait, damnit!" Draco hissed, pulling Harry away from the exit. He was supposed to be the master of tact and manipulation, and here he was making a complete ass of himself and driving the one person in the entire world he could actually tolerate... more than tolerate; actually want around... away from him. "What am I doing?" he muttered under his breath.

"I don't know. What the hell _are _you doing?"

"Actually, trying to come up with something to say to make you stay," Draco replied honestly.

Harry'sexpression softened visibly. Huh, maybe honesty really was the best policy... occasionally. "Well, you're doing a bloody bad job of it." Most of the malice that had been in Harry's tone had disappeared.

"Yeah, well, I usually don't have this particular problem," Draco muttered.

"What, not knowing what to say?" Harry asked, all anger now replaced by amusement.

"No, actually _wanting _someone to stay."

Harry froze. "Um... really?" He glanced down at Draco's hand, which was still holding onto his arm. "You really _are _pretty persistent..."

Draco removed his hand quickly. Great, scare the guy. Brilliant. Come on, find something to say to cover up! "So, you want to have sex within the next fifteen minutes?"

"Actually, now the limit is twelve..." Harry said, a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, then, clothes off, Potter," Draco commanded, taking on an authoritative air. When Harry hesitated, Draco waved his hand impatiently. "Come on, we haven't got all day."

Harry took off his robes. "Nope," he agreed. "Just twelve minutes."

0000

"That had to be the fastest we've ever had sex," Harry observed, pulling up his pants. "Twice in twelve fucking minutes..."

"And they were literally fucking minutes... because, you know, we had that amount of time to..." Draco coughed uncomfortably. "Oh, sod off!" he snapped when Harry began to laugh. "I've just had sex! I'm not thinking straight!" Draco covered Harry's mouth with his hand. "And if you tell me that I'm not straight, period, then we won't have sex for a week." He paused, going over what he just said. "Okay, not until tomorrow night, then."

Harry stepped away from Draco's hand. "You really do have a way with words, you know," he said, tugging at his T-shirt.

"I know. It getsme places."

"No kidding," Harry mumbled through the fabric of his robes, which he was currently struggling to get into.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, then reached out and helped Harry with his robes. "How do you think the wizarding world would feel if they knew that their hero can't even get dressed properly?"

"I'm late," Harry said shortly, turning around to leave.

Draco sighed in frustration. "You know, I really have no problem with your shrugging off your supposed 'destiny' and all that..."

"Your opinion isn't particularly paid attention to anyway..."

"But you can't just keep on pretending like it's not lurking in your future," Draco finished, raising his voice to talk over Harry.

"Don't give advice you can't follow yourself," Harry said over his shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked.

Harry spun around to face Draco. "What do you think it means? It means it's common knowledge that your Initiation is coming up soon. What are you going to do about it?"

"What am I going to do about it?" Draco felt annoyance bubbling up inside him.

"Yes. Are you going to uphold family tradition or are you going to shock your father and threaten your damned inheritance?"

"Don't you _dare _talk about my family like you know something about them!" Draco yelled.

"I know a _bit _about them, considering I've had a few... encounters with your father before."

"I've been fighting with Weasley for years now and you still insist that I don't know anything about _him_."

"That's not the same thing..."

"The _hell _it isn't. You don't know a _damned _thing about me or my life, so just drop it!"

"Then don't assume you know anything about me, got it?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm never going to bring it up ever again."

"Fine. See you around, Malfoy." Harry exited the room, and Draco could hear him muttering under his breath as he stormed off before the portrait covered the hole in the wall again.

"What the hell happened there?" Draco asked the room. He flopped down into one of the chairs lined up along the table, rubbing his temples. "I went and fucked things up yet again. Bloody perfect. And things were starting to look up, too." He stared down at the floor for several minutes. He couldn't really blame Harry for bristling up the way he had; who wanted to be constantly reminded about having to save the world from an insane Dark Lord? But Harry's remark about the Initiation had hit a little close to home. Draco really didn't know what he was going to do. He was dreading the day when he'dbe summoned to go andget the Dark Mark burned into his skin. Would he refuse? What were his fellow Slytherins going through? He hadn't really been paying attention to much of what happened around him lately.

But Draco felt he was still justified in pointing out that Harry didn't know anything about him or his family. Because his family was probably worse than Harry imagined. And Harry didn't really know much about Draco at all. Sure, he knew what he liked best when they were having sex, and he knew what he liked the least. Harry also knew how to piss Draco off to no end. And he'd just recently discovered that they could actually have a civil conversation. Together. For awhile, anyway. But, other than that, Harry didn't know anything about who Draco really was. And Draco found he didn't know anything about Harry. He knew some of Harry's favorite bands. He knew that he loved to dance. He knew he had friends. He knew how to make Harry scream when they were having sex. What did he really know about Harry as a person? He'd tried to find out before. But Harry'd made a valid point when he'd said that Draco didn't say anything about himself as well. Maybe Draco would just have to open up.

0000

"Draco? Are you even listening to me?" Pansy asked, waving her hand in front of Draco's eyes.

"Um, yeah," Draco replied, tearing his gaze away from Harry and forcing himself to look at Pansy.

"You were not," she said, a grin playing at her lips. She leaned closer. "You were staring at Potter."

"I was not!" Draco protested.

"Yes, you were." Pansy nodded, glancing at Harry. "And if you weren't trying so hard to get his attention you'd notice that he's staring right back at you every time you stop looking at him. Don't look!" she exclaimed, clamping her hand on Draco's shoulder. "Just trust me, okay?" She shook her head. "Really, if you want whatever you two have going on to stay a secret..."

"Just shut up!" Draco hissed.

"So, did you have a fight or something?"

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked, looking down at their Potions assignment.

"Well, you look completely miserable, now that I've brought it up... and don't try to deny it because I know you too well." Pansy laughed when Draco scowled and slumped his shoulders. "But don't worry. Nobody else has noticed."

"Yes, we fought."

"What about?"

"None of your damn business," Draco retorted.

"All right, fair enough." Pansy nodded. "But can I make a suggestion?" Draco grunted and crossed his arms. Pansy smiled. "Make the first move, Draco. Don't wait for Harry to come around first."

"Since when did you start calling him Harry?" Draco asked.

"Since we started talking awhile ago."

"Really?" A pang of jealousy coursed through Draco's veins. Draco had never really actually addressed Harryas anything other than Potter. Or some sort of insulting "pet" name designed exclusively to piss him off.

"Yeah. It's oddly relieving to talk to him, you know? Like he's the only person in the world that you know is really going to listen to you. And even if he doesn't have any advice to give you or anything... you still feel better because you know he's at least _trying _to understand you." Pansy shrugged. "Don't tell him I said that, though. In fact, don't tell _anyone _I said that." She stood up. "Actually, if you could forget I just told you that, I'd really appreciate it."

"Where are you going?"

"Taking my own advice," Pansy said under her breath. She glanced at Draco. "I'm going to go talk to Millie," she explained. "Oh, and you _do _know that Harry tends to go to the library later at night to do his homework, right?" She winked at Draco and left the Great Hall.

Dracoleaned back in his chair, not really wanting to think about how the hell Pansy knew Harry's schedule so well. So he'd be in the library. Well, Draco could pay him a visit. He watched Harry talk to his friends for another ten minutes, then excuse himself from the table and exit the Great Hall. Draco nodded when he saw Harry head off in the direction of the library. Right, then. He'd give Harry a few minutes to actually do homework, then he'd go and talk to him.

0000

"My mother's a controlling, possessive bitch, and my father barely ever notices I'm even around," Draco said quietly, sitting down next to Harry in the library.

"What?" Harry asked, looking up from his book.

"I said..."

"No, I heard you. I was just wondering _why _you just said that."

"Because you made a good point today." Draco shrugged. "Why should you tell me anything about yourself if you don't know anything about me?"

"Er... right..." Harry said uncertainly. "You don't expect me to tell you anything about my parents in return, do you? Because I really don't know all that much about them..."

"No. But you have guardians or something, right?" Draco glared at the people sitting nearby that were trying to get them to shut up and eavesdrop at the same time.

"...Yeah," Harry replied, disgust evident in his tone.

Draco's eyebrows raised. "I gather you don't like them all that much. Why? I'd thought they'd worship you or something. Or at least be pretty lenient, considering what happened to you and your parents."

Harry snorted. "You couldn't be any further from the truth," he said quietly. "Anyway, I'd love to talk about my... family... and whatever else you're willing to discuss, but I sort of have work to do still..."

"Right," Draco said. "That looks like Potions homework. You should definitely do that since Snape always looks like he's one step away from killing you as it is." He leaned forward in order to make eye contact with Harry. "But we're going to talk. Tonight."

Harry gulped and nodded. "Wh...when?"

"What time do you think you'll be finished with all of this?" Draco asked, gesturing at the pile of books and parchment that Harry had spread across the entire length of the table.

"I'm probably going to be here until closing time," Harry replied, glancing longingly at the clock.

"Well, if you'd pay more attention in your classes and use your time more productively..."

"Please," Harry cut in, holding up his hand and grimacing. "You sound too much like Hermione when you talk like that."

Draco shrugged. "She's right, too. Well, when the library closes, meet me in my common room." And with that, he left. And he knew Harry would have said "thanks for asking me" if they hadn't been in a library.

0000

Draco made his way over to the portrait when he heard Harry scratching on the canvas. He opened it slowly so it wouldn't squeak, then stepped away so Harry could enter. Harry closed the portrait behind him and looked around.

"Any different from the last time you were in here?" Draco asked.

"Nope." Harry shivered. "And still as cold as ever."

Draco groaned. "Here," he said, taking off his sweatshirt. "Put this on." He handed it to Harry.

Harry took it and slipped into it quickly. After a few minutes, he was still rubbing his arms.

"You're still cold?" Draco asked incredulously. Harry only glared at him. Draco rolled his eyes, hiding his grin effectively. "I'll be right back," he said, hurrying over to the stairs. He more or less sprinted to his dorm and retrieved the warm comforter from his bed, then rushed back down to the common room, partially afraid that Harry wouldn't be there when he got back. But he was still there. "Over here," Draco instructed, motioning to the armchair in front of the fire.

Harry moved toward him slowly, still rubbing his arms. "There's only enough room for one," he pointed out, teeth chattering slightly.

"Which is why," Draco said, sitting down in the armchair, "you're going to sit on my lap." He looked up at Harry. Noticing the reluctant look on Harry's face, he patted his thighs and grinned mischievously.

Harry snorted. "Forget it," he said, turning to leave.

Draco jumped out of the chair. "Wait," he said, grabbing Harry's arm. "It'll make you warm," he coaxed, wrapping his arms around Harry.

Harry looked at Draco skeptically. "Okay..."

"It will, I promise," Draco said, moving backward toward the chair and leading Harry along with him. He sat down in the armchair and pulled Harry down on top of him, then spread out the comforter so it was covering them both. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth spread through his body. He leaned against Draco so his head was resting in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry. "So, back to what we were talking about earlier," he said softly, not wanting to scare Harry away like he had before.

"...Uh-huh...?"

"I asked you about your guardians...?"

"Yeah, you did." Harry sighed. "Is this going to be a back and forth question, answer thing?"

"Pretty much." He was relieved when Harry didn't even tense up.

"...Okay."

"Right. So, who do you live with?"

"My uncle Vernon, my aunt Petunia, and my cousin Dudley."

"Dudley?" Draco asked, smiling.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his lips twisting into a half-grin.

"And what are they like?" Draco inquired. When Harry hesitated, Draco began moving his hand up and down Harry's arm. "Come on, I told you a little about what my parents are like. It's your turn now."

Harry sighed. "Right. Okay, Vernon only seems to be happy when he's yelling at me and telling me how much trouble I am, Petunia can't seem to get through the day without ordering me about and making me do a bunch of pointless chores, and Dudley really likes beating me up and stealing my things."

"Sounds like fun," Draco commented, already not really admiring Harry's family.

"Huh, you don't know the half of it."

"My favorite color is blue because it favors my eyes when I wear it," Draco said, changing the subject.

"My favorite color's black." Draco raised an eyebrow. "It makes me more inconspicuous," Harry explained. "Besides, I think I look sort of good in it."

"You do," Draco agreed.

Harry looked up at Draco. "You think so?" he asked, grinning.

"I just said so, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"So I guess that means I do."

"Huh." Harry was still smiling.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "I've only served to expand the Golden Boy's ego."

"Yes, pretty soon no one will be good enough for me." Harry laughed. "Come on, get on with it, then."

"I love the rain."

"I love the snow."

"I hate the snow. I've spent too much time around it."

"Snow's just frozen rain."

"Yeah. Key word being frozen." Draco smiled. "And considering your dislike of being cold..."

"Oh, shut up."

"You're strange."

"I said shut up."

"I like the sunrise. Means there's a new day ahead of me. New possibilities."

"I like the sunset. It means the day's over and I have the whole night to do... whatever."

"Whatever?"

"Yeah. Whatever."

"My favorite song is R.E.M.'s 'Losing My Religion.'"

"That's a nice song." Harry snuggled closer to Draco.

"So what's your favorite?" Draco asked.

"Don't have one. My favorite _type _of music is rock."

"That's close enough."

"I'll compensate by saying my favorite type of movie is horror. _House On Haunted Hill_, _Thirteen Ghosts_, _Jeepers Creepers, Jeepers Creepers Two,__Final Destination, Final Destination Two_... oh, and _The Butterfly Effect _is pretty good. That's not really horror, though."

"Movies?"

Harry looked up at Draco. "You're telling me you've never seen a single movie?"

"I passed a TV in a Muggle shopping mall once..."

Harry laughed. "I'll have to get something set up in here so we can watch movies all night or something."

"So, you just like horror?"

"Well, comedy, too. We'll have to watch _Rat Race _or _It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World _sometime."

"Okay. So we're set for a movie night, then," Draco said, oddly pleased about having a simple plan for the future with Harry that didn't involve sex... directly. "My favorite class is Potions."

"Surprise," Harry said sarcastically. "Mine's... uh... Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Surprise," Draco commented, mimicking Harry's tone. And then his expression became more serious. "I have no idea what I'm going to do after school's over."

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, then said, "Neither do I."

"Really? All of the professors keep saying you have major potential."

"Yeah, but for what?" Harry shrugged. "What's the good of having major potential if you don't know what to do with it?"

"Good point." Draco and Harry were silent for awhile, then Draco said, "I don't completely agree with... Voldemort's... beliefs."

"Completely?" Harry asked, not realizing he was holding his breath.

"I don't believe in killing people right and left. Especially if there isn't any real reason to do so. Sure, I may not like mudbloods all that much, but I don't want to _kill _them. I don't think I'll be able to accept the Dark Mark."

"Really?" Harry had ceased moving altogether.

"Yeah. Because, aside from the fact thatI just mentioned, I don't feel comfortable signing myself over to some aging reptile man whose power isn't as strong as it was years ago."

"So this is a power thing?"

"No, I just think his ideas are dying with the times. There are too many mudbloods today. He'll never be able to get rid of all of them without eventually wiping out all of the wizarding population as well."

"Voldemort sort of reminds me of Hitler."

"Who?"

"Muggle guy. Just like Voldemort's trying to get rid of mudbloods, Hitler tried to get rid of the Jews. He also thought the ideal human being had blonde hair and blue eyes." Draco smirked at Harry, who scowled at him in return. "You don't have blue eyes," he said, sticking out his tongue. Draco caught it between his lips and kissed him.

And they continued to kiss for several minutes before Draco pulled away. "So Hitler reminds you of Voldemort because he tried to kill off... Jews?"

"Well, he also didn't like anyone who didn't fit his view of the perfect human being. He reminds me of Voldemort because Hitler was had brown hair and eyes, and he was a Jew."

"You mean, how Voldemort's not a pureblood?"

"Yeah." Harry closed his eyes. "You already know how I feel about Voldemort." He opened his eyes and looked up at Draco again. "Does this mean you're not going to be a Death Eater? You're not going to be fighting against... well, whoever opposes Voldemort?"

"You mean you?"

"...Yeah."

"I don't know," Draco replied honestly. "I keep envisioning this scenario where I refuse to join him and he kills me."

"Yes, death does tend to influence people's decisions." Harry's voice was toneless.

Draco sighed. "If you weren't the Boy Who Lived, would you still be so against Voldemort?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation.

"How can you be so sure?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just am."

Draco closed his eyes and willed himself to stay calm. "You're sure there's no possibility that you would have sided with Voldemort if what he's done to you never happened?"

Harry straightened and turned to face Draco completely. "Why are you so intent on getting me to say that I might have become a Death Eater?"

"I'm not," Draco protested.

"Sounded like it to me," Harry muttered.

Draco could feel annoyance building up inside him. "So you'd turn down Voldemort, even if he threatened you with death?"

"Yeah."

"You really think it's that simple?" Harry only shrugged in reply. "Damnit, Harry, don't you value your life at all?" Draco snapped.

"Yes, but I also value the lives of the people I love!"

"Oh, that's touchy. A sentiment worthy of a Gryffindor, I'm sure," Draco mocked.

"Of course _you _wouldn't understand," Harry said through clenched teeth. "You probably don't care about anyone enough."

"It has to do with _caring _about someone? Oh, so, to show how much you value friendship, you let yourself get killed?" Draco snorted. "Right, so when I 'sacrifice' myself, who will care?" When Harry attempted to stand up, Draco tightened his hold on him. "No, I really want to know. Who's going to even notice I'm gone?"

"Let go of me," Harry demanded, struggling to get away from Draco.

"Answer the question," Draco retorted, not loosening his hold.

"You're hurting me!" Harry shouted.

"I'll let go of you when you give me an answer!" Draco yelled back. "Now, who do you think is really going to give a _damn _when I defy Voldemort and get myself killed?"

Harry glared at Draco for a few moments, then spat out, "Right now, nobody."

Draco felt a stab of pain jolt through him and he let go of Harry, who stood up and shot across the room instantly. He stopped in front of the portrait hole, turning enough so Draco could hear him clearly, but not enough so Draco could see the expression on his face. "This is exactly why we shouldn't talk," he said quietly. "It's also why this can't go on when school's over. We're just too different." He sighed and exited the room.

Had Harry sounded sad about the deal's end, or had Draco just imagined it?

0000

"Draco? Draco, honey?" Pansy's voice broke into Draco's self-deprecating thoughts. She reached out and took the bottle of vodka out of his hand. "Take it easy on the alcohol this time, baby, okay?" She set the bottle down on the floor and sat down on the arm of the soft, leather chair.

Millicent sat on the other arm of the chair and ruffled Draco's hair. "You look like shit, sweetie."

Draco scowled. "Thanks."

"What happened?" Pansy asked, wrapping her arm around Draco's shoulders.

Draco sighed. Pansy knew about Harry anyway. "Harry and I fought again."

"Um, Drake, when I told you to make the first move, I didn't want you to instigate another fight."

"I know. We were talking, and we were actually getting along." Draco shook his head in confusion. "Then we're in the middle of this argument, and the next thing I know, Harry's leaving." He closed his eyes and leaned against Pansy. "And he said we couldn't see each other after Hogwarts."

"Oh, baby," Pansy said, resting her head on top of Draco's. "It was just a fight. You two have them all the time."

"Did I miss something here?" Millicent asked, scratching her head in confusion. "Harry who? Not Harry _Potter_... damn! Why didn't anybody _tell _me?" she asked, smacking Pansy's arm reproachfully.

"Ow!" Pansy exclaimed, rubbing her shoulder. "Because it was a _secret_!" she hissed. "Now shut up before someone else hears you!"

Millicent narrowed her eyes at Pansy. "Fine. But we'll be talking later."

"Yeah," Pansy said, her tone implying that she was dreading the event.

"So, I take it you two made up," Draco said.

"That remains to be seen," Millicent said slowly.

"Oh, come on, Millie!" Pansy whined. "I'm stupid, you know that!"

Millicent shrugged. "I guess so. But you're going to _tell _me things from now on, right?"

Pansy nodded vigorously. "Promise."

Draco sighed. "Great, now that that's settled..."

"Oh, right. What did you fight about, anyway?" Pansy asked.

"So it _is _Harry _Potter_, correct?" Millicent asked. When both Pansy and Draco glared at her, she held up her hands. "What? Just getting the facts, that's all. Carry on."

"We were talking about stuff we like. Then we started talking about Vold... _Him_" he said, correcting himself when he noticed Millicent's grimace, "and what we would end up doing eventually."

"So, basically, you went from comfortable territory into dangerous waters without much warning at all?" Pansy asked. "You just don't _do _that, Draco. Especially when you're dealing with Harry."

Draco frowned at her. "How would you know this?"

"I've _talked _to him," Pansy explained. "Haven't you ever heard of _tact_?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I have."

"So why are you so blunt with Harry, then?" Millicent asked.

"Because when I'm around him, I can't think straight. I get nervous."

Pansy and Millicent looked at each other, then nodded.

"What?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. When the girls' only response was to smile secretively, he sighed in annoyance and rose to his feet. "Fine, don't tell me. I'm going to bed." He left the room, muttering under his breath about idiotic, twittering, teenage girls who didn't know a damned thing about him or his relationship troubles.

0000

Draco was drinking coffee at an alarming rate, waiting for Blaise's hangover potion to take effect. Which was why everyone within four seats of him was suddenly sprayed with bitter, hot coffee when Harry signaled for them to meet in the room next to the suit of armor. Instead of waiting the usual fifteen minutes, Draco left the Great Hall after an agonizingly slow five minutes had crawled by. When he entered the room, Harry held out a bundle of clothing that Draco realized was the sweatshirt he'd given to him the night before. "Uh, no, you keep it," he said. "I have too many of them anyway." He also thought it was sexy when Harry wore his clothes. Strange. Harry shrugged and tossed the sweatshirt into a corner of the room. His own clothes followed shortly afterward. Draco, remembering what he'd come to do, stripped as well. "So..."

Harry dropped to his knees and pulled Draco down next to him. And then they were kissing. And then Harry was pushing Draco back onto the floor and doing everything Draco wanted him to do. And then Harry was kissing Draco again and driving into him, and Draco was screaming incoherently. This was what he could sacrifice himself for. Not sex. He realized he could give his life up for Harry. And it didn't scare him at all. It wasn't a revelation, it was an acknowledgement; something that he had denied but had been there all along.

When it was over, Harry collapsed on top of Draco. And Draco found that he enjoyed Harry's weight on top of him. He made a mental note to make sure Harry ate more; he was too light, even for his short height. And Draco realized that he liked being able to worry, to care about someone other than himself.

Harry groaned, then lifted himself up just enough to flop onto the floor beside Draco. "Damn," he whispered. "Every time we have sex, I think it can't get any better. Then it _does _get better." He rolled over onto his back. "Seriously, if it gets much better than this, I don't think I'll be able to handle it."

Draco laughed. "Can you imagine the headlines?" Harry simply exhaled and closed his eyes. Draco shook his head, smiling. "'Boy Who Lived Driven Insane by Mindblowing Sex with Death Eater's Son.'"

Harry grinned, his eyes still closed, not bothering to reply.

Draco grinned up at the ceiling. He knew what he wanted now. And he knew that Harry wanted it, too. He just had to realize it first. Even if they were different... no, it was _because _they were so different that they were, ultimately, meant to be together. They'd always challenge each other, give each other something to strive for. When Draco was with Harry, he felt alive. He didn't care about what anyone would think about their being together. Because he loved Harry Potter.

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes before rising to his feet, hobbling over to his clothes. "Hard surfaces... I _hate _hard surfaces," he grumbled.

"What about the cold?" Draco asked, sitting up slowly and stretching, wincing slightly.

"Yeah, that, too," Harry said, pouting.

Draco repressed a burst of laughter. "Even though you love the snow."

"Shut up, you," Harry scowled. "See you later." And he left the room.

Draco stood up and began to get dressed. No, he couldn't tell Harry the way he felt yet; he'd scare him off. Harry had to come to terms with his own feelings first. Draco sighed and straightened his tie. "I just hope he realizes how he feels soon," he said to the empty room, "or I'm going to go crazy."

A/N: Okay, I thought the last section was not as good as it could have been. Let me explain: I had the _perfect _ending typed out. I'm serious, the last section was probably the _best _thing I've written so far. Then, guess what happened? My sister DELTED THE WHOLE DAMNED THING! I was so pissed I almost... ooh. Just... ooh. So I had to _re-type _the last section, and I couldn't remember _specifially _what I'd done. Once again, ooh. Anyway, next chapter's going to be in Draco's perspective again. And don't think things are _really _looking up for them just yet...


	19. Chapter Nineteen

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait. First I had to take care of my mom because she had pneumonia, then _I _happened to get pneumonia, then I had to make up a mountain of homework in a very short period of time, then my space bar didn't work, then my semi-boyfriend (meaning we're much more than friends, but not quite... "serious." Actually, I have _two _semi-boyfriends, and one of them has an _actual _girlfriend. Agh. Life is confusing) insisted that we go and _do _something over the weekend. Not to mention the writer's block. I seriously thought my muse (or rather, the spirit that possesses me and types my stories) had gone and died on me or something. In any case, I finally sat down in front of the computer and, BAM, the muse took over again and I had chapter nineteen finished and ready to go.

Side note: I have read through both of my stories and have decided that I absolutely _have _to correct the embarrassing mistakes I've made. Yet another side note: The Whole Nine Yards is a hilarious movie. If I could somehow manage to combine a theme like that with the Harry Potter universe... perfect chaos.

0000

Chapter Nineteen

"Clear away this hate

And we can start to make it all right"

"Away," Breaking Benjamin

"I win again," Millicent announced, knocking Draco's king over on the chessboard.

"Well, don't think you're getting any better, Millie," Draco said, leaning back on the sofa. "I just have something on my mind."

"Yeah, I figured that," Millicent sighed.

"Why do you keep insisting that you play chess with me if you hate losing so much?"

Millicent grinned wryly. "Because I keep believing I'll actually learn something from you every time we play."

Draco laughed. "Well, like your actually winning a game against me some day, it's never going to happen."

"It might," Millicent protested, putting away the chessboard.

"No."

"You're a cocky bastard," Blaise announced, entering the common room.

"And you just found this out?" Millicent asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I'm just reminding myself. He's been acting so different lately."

"I know," Millicent agreed, nodding. "He actually held the door open for _Professor McGonagall_."

"And he helped a _first year _with his homework last night," Blaise added.

"Who did?" Pansy asked, coming through the portrait hole.

"Drake," Millicent replied.

"Really?" Pansy laughed. "What are the odds?"

"You'd have made an unbelievable amount of money if you had bet on his doing so."

"Hm, just as unbelievable as his helping the first year in the first place?"

Millicent snickered. "No, what's unbelievable is that he hasn't told us to shut up."

"Well, I can top that," Blaise declared, puffing out his chest and spreading out his arms with a dramatic air. "He actually said 'hello' to Harry Potter today without a single insult or jibe involved."

"Actually, Zabini, that's not much of a surprise," Pansy commented, smirking. Millicent giggled.

Draco finally spoke up. "You girls can decide how much you're going to tell him or if you're going to tell him at all." He rose to his feet. "But I'm not going to be here. Just remember that, even though I'm in a good mood right now, that doesn't mean I won't kill you." And with that, he exited the common room, then hurried out of the dungeons.

So now Blaise would know his secret. And Draco found that he didn't particularly care. In fact, he was somewhat... relieved, maybe even proud, that someone else knew about him and Harry. The only reason he had even bothered to threaten Millicent and Pansy was because he knew that _Harry _wasn't ready for everyone to know yet. Speaking of Harry...

Draco made an abrupt turn and hurried to the nearest staircase, ascending the steps two at a time. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he cursed himself yet again for making the journey without knowing the password. But, just like last time, someone flung the portrait open. Only, this time it wasn't Thomas. "Granger," Draco said by way of greeting, nodding slightly.

Granger's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you here for?"

"Um... could I talk to"

"So, you just want to talk?"

That and possibly something else. "Yes."

Granger sighed and stepped away from the portrait. "Come in. You already know where his dorm is." At Draco's questioning look, Granger sighed. "Remember? A few days ago, Ron gave us a running commentary. Every seventh year Gryffindor that isn't Lavender or her sheep knows."

"Gryffindor?" Draco asked weakly, entering the common room.

"Nobody else. The second I heard Ron scream, I cast a silencing charm on the entire tower."

Draco regarded Granger for a few seconds, then said, "Thanks... Hermione."

"Anytime, Malfoy." She made to exit through the portrait hole. "Don't hurt him or I'll kill you." Then she left, shutting the portrait behind her quietly.

Draco was just started to race up the stairs to Harry's dorm when Thomas came barreling down. They narrowly avoiding a head on collision, with Draco smacking himself against the wall and Thomas clearing the last ten steps.

"Ron's asleep," Thomas said when he was on his feet again. "If you're going to do... anything... maybe you could cast a silencing charm and _close the curtains _this time."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked. What if Ron woke up? Finnegan and Longbottom wouldn't be much help.

"Um... er... that is..."

"Oh, just go andfind her already."

Thomas looked up at him in surprise. "You know?" Then he grinned. "She... she's actually going to meet me?"

"She let me _in_, Thomas. She's already _gone _to meet you."

Thomas didn't even bother to reply.

Draco stared at the portrait hole for a few moments. "Thomas and Granger." Draco shook his head. "Strange." Then he grinned. Those who knew of him and Harry probably thought that _their_ relationship was _very _strange. He turned around and resumed his headlong sprint up the stairs. When he reached the door to Harry's dorm, he pushed it open slowly, braced for any hexes that might be sent in his direction. When none came, he slipped in quickly and shut the door. He made his way over to Harry's bed, then opened the curtains just enough for him to get in before closing them behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Draco literally jumped, making the bed squeak. He promptly took out his wand and muttered a silencing charm to prevent anysound from carrying past the bed. "You scared me."

"How the hell do you think I felt?" Harry asked, sitting up and running his hands back and forth through his hair.

"I thought you'd be asleep."

"I _was _asleep, thank you very much," Harry grumbled, leaning back against the headboard.

"Oh, um... sorry." Draco cleared his throat. "So, do you feel awake enough to... you know...?"

"How did you get in this time?" Harry asked, moving over a little so Draco would have more room on the bed.

"Hermione opened the portrait for me."

"Hermione? Since when does she help you?" Harry paused, then added, "Since when do you call her Hermione?"

"Um... since she let me in, actually. I suppose I should be a bit nicer to Dean and Seamus as well, considering they keptWeasley from killing me."

"Well, trust me, they're just as skeptical about you as you are about them. Actually, Dean and Hermione are skeptical. Seamus really does support the whole situation." He shrugged. "But, you know, Seamus is loony." Harry sighed. "And right now Ron is just completely avoiding anything to do with the subject so he doesn't kill somebody."

"Yeah, well, Weasley's an idiot."

"He's also my best friend, Malfoy, so watch it," Harry said wearily.

Draco sighed. "Sorry. We'll avoid all talk of friends and whether they approve or disapprove of us for the rest of the night."

"Thanks." Harry closed his eyes and exhaled. "It's hot in here tonight."

"Well, summer _is _just around the corner, you know," Draco replied. Summer meant the end of the deal. Or the beginning of something else. "We could always go down to my dorm."

Harry shook his head. "I'm too tired to move, let alone get up and go somewhere. Besides, the transition from this heat to the subzero temperature of the dungeons might kill me."

"All right, then." Draco stretched out on the bed. After a few minutes, he slipped out of his pajamas so they wouldn't stick to his body. "It really is hot up here."

"Told you so," Harry retorted.

Draco set his pajamas on the foot ofHarry' bed and flopped down next tohim again. "Those bed curtains really aren't helping matters."

"Well, they're staying closed."

"Yeah," Draco sighed.

After a few more minutes, Harry pushed the covers away.

"Silk?" Draco asked, eyeing the red boxers that Harry was wearing.

"Hm?" Harry asked, opening one eye. "Oh. Lavender bought them for me at Hogsmeade that one time. I wore them tonight because everything else is too hot."

"Ah."

"Too hot to talk?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Maybe we should come up here more often."

"We wouldn't be able to have sex either."

"Oh. Right. Damn."

Draco grinned tiredly, feeling his eyelids droop. "We could have sex in my dorm, then come up here to sleep."

"Now that sounds like a plan," Harry murmured sleepily. "Besides, I sort of like that armchair..."

Draco knew Harry had fallen asleep because of his even breathing. He watched Harry for awhile, then drifted off to sleep himself.

0000

Draco awoke sometime later that night, noticing that he no longer felt like he was roasting; the heat had finally let up. He also realized that he'd wrapped himself up in Harry's sheets, and had moved so close to the edge of the bed that he was close to falling off. He rolled back over slowly to look at the other boy he was sharing the bed with. Harry had managed to kick all of the covers... with the exception of the sheet Draco had managed to snag for himself... to the very edge of the bed until they were crumpled up between the baseboard and the mattress. He looked completely... not innocent, but... unassuming. As if, even though he _knew _there was a crazy old Dark Lord out there somewhere that wanted him dead, he didn't really care; he just wanted to sleep, damnit. Draco smiled and snuggled closer to Harry, and his grin widened when Harry instinctively reached out to him.

Draco traced Harry's cheekbone with his index finger, then brushed his hair away from his forehead lightly. This was yet another reason why they couldn't leave each other after school was over; Draco had found that, after his first night of actually _sleeping _with Harry, he just couldn't sleep period without him by his side. It was somehow annoying and pleasing at the same time. Draco felt himself becoming drowsy again and he draped his arm across Harry's chest. Just as his eyelids closed and he drifted off, he felt both of Harry's arms wrap around him and draw him even closer.

0000

Draco woke up later in the morning, feeling like something was missing. Then he realized that Harry wasn't holding him anymore. He reached out and felt for the warm body that had been lying next to his, and when he touched empty air instead, his eyes snapped open. Harry was gone. And the atmosphere of the room told that him something was wrong. He sat up and made to spring from the bed when he realized he was only "wearing" a sheet. He looked around frantically for his clothes. Finding them, he put them on quickly and hurried out of the dorm, making his way down to the common room. When he reached the last stair, he froze abruptly.

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, still only in his boxers, looking completely drained of energy.

Draco approached him tentatively, not liking the empty expression on Harry's face. "Harry?" he said tentatively, wanting the other boy to at least open his eyes, acknowledge his presence.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, but they didn't focus on Draco. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling.

Draco frowned. "Harry?" He made his voice more assertive.

Harry finally looked at Draco, but his gaze was slightly unfocused. When Draco was about to ask him what was wrong, Harry laughed; a humorless bark that made Draco cringe slightly. Harry rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Guess who poked his head in through the bedcurtains to talk to me before school this morning?" he asked, his voice a dangerouscombination of depression, anger, and hysteria.

There was a slight slur to Harry's voice. "Have you taken any drugs?" Draco asked, looking around sharply for any telltale signs of drug use.

"I had a headache," Harry murmured. He smiled, but the smile seemed pasted on; impersonal and unnaturally fitted to his face.

"...And?" Draco asked warily.

"And Hermione gave me some Ibuprofen." Harry sighed. "They're not all that strong, though."

"That's it? Just Ibuprofen?" Draco suspected that Harry wasn't telling him everything.

"Well, like I said, they weren't all that strong, so I decided to try this," Harry said, holding up a small bottle of scotch. "Works like a charm. My temples are still pounding though," he added as an afterthought. "Guess I need more scotch. Or more Ibuprofen."

"Just Ibuprofen and scotch?"

"Yes, just Ibuprofen and scotch," Harry replied wearily. "What's your problem, anyway?"

"Nothing. So, you just had a headache?"

"Yeah. I had a headache."

"Weasley didn't have anything to do with _causing _that headache, did he?" Draco asked, already planning to confront Weasley as soon as he could.

Cold,hollow laughter escaped Harry's lips again, making Draco wince. "When he saw you with me, he didn't say anything. He just left the dorm. I followed him down here so I could talk to him, but he didn't want to hear anything I had to say. The next thing I knew, we were yelling at each other. We were just about to attack each other when Ginny rushed at us and pushed us apart." He laughed again, but this time there was a sob mixed in with the laughter. "Ron just stared at me for a few seconds, then left. Just left."

Draco felt his hands clenching into fists. He'd kill Weasley. _Kill _him.

"He was going to _talk _to me this morning about... about... this," he said lamely, waving his arm lazily between himself and Draco, "and he saw me lying there with you." He closed his eyes and swallowed several times before sitting up abruptly. "What the hell is _wrong _with him?" he shouted, throwing the bottle of scotch at the fireplace. He clutched his head in his hands, and his body shook with silent sobs.

Draco felt his nails dig into his hands hard enough to draw blood. Death was too good for Weasley. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry jerked away, muttering something incoherently. Draco felt his heart wrench. He reached out for a second attempt, but this time Harry stood up pushed Draco away. "Stay the fuck away from me," he growled. He shoved past Draco roughly and made his way over to the portrait hole, pushing it open. There were two second years outside, and when they stared at Harry's lack of clothing, he glared at them. "What are you looking at?" he spat. When the two younger Gryffindors backed away, he snorted in disgust and took off in the other direction down the corridor.

Draco just stood frozen to the spot, watching Harry leave. When the second years crept into the common room cautiously, both of their expressions clearly saying, "A _Slytherin _doesn't belong here," he glared at them ferociously. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was, so he walked straight toward the second years and pushed them out of his way before exiting the common room.

0000

Draco decided he'd have to tell Blaise to find yet another better hiding place for all of his alcohol before he drowned himself in it. The moment he had entered his common room, he'd scared everyone away and taken every bottle of liquor off of a shelf hidden behind a painting... with the exception of scotch.; scotch was part of the problem... and consumed it within an hour. To say he was intoxicated was to say that the Atlantic Ocean was damp. Just thinking about the hangover he'd inevitably have made his stomach queasy and his head ache. "For the love of..." he interrupted himself with yet another swig of vodka, "God. Why the hell does he have to be so..." yet another gulp to help him find the word he was looking for, "...Golden Boyish?" Draco shook his head slightly, then decided he'd had quite enough alcohol. But he took another drink before setting the bottle down on the floor and rising to his feet clumsily. He decided he'd have to sleep on the couch when he couldn't remain standing for more than five seconds.

"Um, Draco?" Pansy's voice came from somewhere far away. Although, considering how much alcohol he had consumed, she could have very well been standing right next to him. "You didn't drink all of that alone, did you?"

Draco's response was to laugh in very much the same way Harry had earlier; disoriented, emotionless, broken. He could practically feel Pansy cringe at the sound.

"Are you going to sleep here tonight?"

"What do you think, Parkinson?" Draco asked, stretching his limbs as far as they would go.

"Right. Goodnight, then," Pansy said, exiting the common room. Her tone hadn't given away much, but Draco knew she was angry with him. Perfect. She'd probably start an argument the next morning when he was miserable with a terrible hangover. And she probably wouldn't even let him drink a hangover potion until they'd "talked."

Draco groaned and rolled over onto his side. None of this would have happened if Weasley hadn't been hit suddenly with the desire to "talk." He wouldn't have seen him with Harry, he wouldn't have hurt Harry's feelings, Harry wouldn't have gone into a state of depression... again... and Draco wouldn't have hurried down to the dungeons and saturated himself with alcohol. Draco felt himself laugh again, sure that he heard someone passing by shiver. Good, he wasn't the only one that found that laugh highly unpleasant. Particularly on Harry.

Harry. Draco knew he loved the Boy Who Lived. He would have liked to say he'd always loved him, but that wasn't the truth. Up until seventh year he had, in fact, genuinely hated Harry Potter. But the person that had said there is a very fine line between love and hate was absolutely correct. When Draco had proposed the deal, he had been thinking of Harry as a possibility. There was a good chance that Harry would turn him down, laugh in his face, and tell the whole school about it. But Draco somehow knew that Harry would accept. Because Harry felt the same way about Draco. At first, they had just fucked. A lot. Then they had started kissing or doing something that worked its way up to sex. Later on, they'd talk occasionally. Just conversation involving topics like school, Quidditch, weather... rather impersonal topics that allowed them to gather enough strength to get them back to where they had to go. Or have at it again.And then, the next thing Draco knew, he and Harry were actually talking about subjects that _did _strike a nerve. And what was surprising was the fact that both of them seemed to like it. Because, for some reason, Draco liked getting Harry riled up and disoriented. And Harry liked to do the same thing to Draco. Because they felt alive.

Alive. Right now, Draco felt like anything but alive. He felt cold. Not cold physically, but emotionally. Was this feeling a side effect to loving someone? Did Harry ever feel the same way about him? Ugh, the whole situation was driving Draco crazy. However, Draco had known from the moment he'd thought of Harry as someone he could actually stand to be with, to care for, that he was going down a very steep hill. One that would be very hard to climb back up. And then, when he'd admitted to himself that he actually _loved _Harry... he'd officially reached the point of no return. There was no going back now. And Draco knew this because he was currently trying to convince himself that he _did not love Harry Potter_. And he was failing miserably. Sure, he could lie to himself while he was awake. Or rather, he could lie to everybody else. But when he was asleep... unfortunately, his subconscious was painfully honest. And even more unfortunate was the fact that he was currently drifting off to sleep...

0000

Draco refused to even glance at the mess that he'd made in the bathroom stall. He simply flushed the toilet, pushed himself up onto his feet, and hurried out of the room before he threw up yet again. He stood outside the bathroom for a few seconds with his back pressed against the wall, breathing deeply to calm his stomach. When the nausea subsided, he clamped his hands on his head and groaned, making his way to the common room so he could drink the hangover potion that Blaise had waiting for him. Upon reaching the common room, he more or less charged Blaise, ripped the potion out of his hands, and swallowed the whole bitter-tasting concoction in two very large gulps.

"You left the scotch," Blaise commented, shaking a bottle of half-empty scotch. Draco nodded. Blaise snorted. "Yeah, thanks for that."

Draco shrugged. "You need to find a better hiding place for your alcohol," he said, flopping down on the couch. He could already feel the potion working and he sighed in relief. That had to have been the worst hangover he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

"But you already _know _all of the possible hiding places," Blaise complained. "It's a pain in the ass."

"Use your imagination." Draco closed his eyes and breathed evenly, helping the potion calm down his stomach.

"You're in a bitchy mood this morning," Blaise commented.

"I have a _hangover_, Blaise."

"You're no fun this morning. I'm going to go hide the muffin that Goyle put under his pillow last night."

"At least you can still hide stuff from Crabbe and Goyle."

"Yeah, well, they're idiots. Hiding stuff from them sort of loses its appeal after awhile." Blaise left the common room to go find Goyle's muffin.

Draco shook his head. "Insanity," he muttered. He was just about to drift off to sleep when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Pansy looming over him, her hands on her hips. "...Yeah?" he asked warily, not liking the expression on her face.

"I told you we were going to talk, Malfoy. Just consider yourself lucky that I had the decency to _wait _until your potion kicked in."

Draco shuddered. "Thanks for that." When Pansy remained silent, he rolled his eyes. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"What the hell happened last night?"

Draco grimaced. "I drank far too much alcohol." He didn't really feel like talking about his relationship problems at the moment.

"Yes, I know. But what made you drink that much alcohol?"

"None of your damned business, Pansy," Draco snapped. Seeing Pansy's hurt expression, Draco sighed. "Look, I just don't want to talk about it right now, okay? Maybe later." He stood up and left the common room. He needed to think, and he couldn't very well go up to the roof of the Astronomy Tower while there were classes being taught. So he settled for making his way up to the second floor; for some reason, the higher up he got, the easier it was for him to sort out his mind. Harry had once said that the higher up he got, the more distanced he felt from his problems and worries; he could look at them clearly and objectively. Draco found that this explanation worked for him as well; the greater the distance between him and the ground, the easier it was for him to sort things out.

Draco decided on an empty corridor with plenty of windows and wandered aimlessly along the cold stone floor, ignoring the portraits that attempted to talk to him. After about a half an hour had passed by, he wasn't exactly feelingbetter, but he had more or less "set aside" his depression so he could deal with it later.

However, it all came rushing back when he walked smack into Harry. "What are you doing here?" he asked, cursing himself when his voice cracked slightly.

"Avoiding people," Harry replied, rubbing at his ribs. "Must you always walk so fast?"

"I don't walk fast. You're legs are just shorter than everyone else's so you walk more slowly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure, rub it in." He was about to pass by, but Draco reached out and stopped him. "Yeah?"

Draco swallowed. "Um... sorry...?"

"It's not really exactly your fault, Malfoy," Harry said. He sighed. "I'm sorry for making you feel like it was, though." He grinned ruefully. "I sort of lost it. Everyone thought I had snapped or something." He laughed sadly. "Even Ron was worried."

"So you made up, then?" Draco asked.

"To a certain extent," Harry replied slowly. "We're sort of on shaky ground right now. I mean, Hermione's not leaving us alone anymore."

"Mediator?"

"Kind of. She's also more or less directing the conversation so we don't stray toward any... uncomfortable topics." Harry shrugged. "I don't mind. I _would_ like to just get it over with, though."

"Well, as much as I hate to admit it, Hermione usually is right." Draco winced. "The minute she leaves you alone with Ron, start talking."

Harry laughed quietly. "I know."

An awkward silence stretched out between the two of them. After awhile, Harry made to walk away. "Well..."

Draco didn't want Harry to leave. He wanted to somehow convey what he was feeling. He reached out and clasped Harry's arm. When Harry turned to look at him quizzically, Draco realized he couldn't tell him just yet without scaring the living daylights out of him. He sighed. "See you around," he said instead.

Harry shrugged. "Um... yeah. See you." And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, inhaling deeply. Everything was getting more confusing by the minute. His mind was working furiously to keep up on things. Draco shook his head. "Please, God, if you really do exist..."

And Draco found he didn't want to finish his plea; what if God didn't exist? What if there was no one to hear what he had to say? He didn't think he could take that big of a let down. But he knew that, deep down, Harry felt the same way, wanted the same things that he did. Because, silently, Harry was screaming. Slowly, just like Draco, Harry was dying inside.

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A/N: And _that _is the end of chapter nineteen. Damnit, why does my muse have to love angst so much? Then again, if you look at Running To Stand Still, that's more of a comedy... ah well. So far my muse seems to be doing the right thing, because you've been reading my story. All I know is that when I read this through, it drove me insane. Now, there are still a couple more chapters CONTAINING ANGST, and then the story will let up. The next chapter is in Harry's perspective, and the chapter after that will be in Draco's. And then Harry's, and then Draco's, and then Harry's... and then the epilogue, which will be in the universal style. That's right, only five more chapters (six, if you include the epilogue)! Oh yeah, I just wanted to let you know (again), that I _will _be posting chapter eight of Running To Stand Still as soon as this story's over. And after R.T.S.S. is over, I'll be rewriting and reposting Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality, with more detail, and _much _longer chapters. I also have two more Draco/Harry stories, a Harry/Oliver fic, and a Harry/Lucius fic (as I said in a previous chapter, I don't particularly care for this particular ship, but I love the angsty quality this story will bring). I'm also considering writing a story that combines the plot line from The Whole Nine Yards with the Harry Potter universe (as mentioned in author's note at beginning of chapter). I'm not sure what the main ships will be yet, though... any ideas? Let me know when you review (please)! Side note: weren't those author's notes _long_?


	20. Chapter Twenty

A/N: Hey everyone! Like I said in the author's note in the _last _chapter, this one's in Harry's perspective. Yes, there is angst involved.

Side note: Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" and The Exies' "Ugly" are very good songs. I particularly like the part in "Ugly" that goes:

"I don't care, you don't care; I'm bitter, you're angry

I don't care, you don't care; you love you, just like me

I blame you, you blame me"

I'm pretty sure I'm going to be using those lyrics in another one of my stories. Anyway, here's chapter twenty. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The lyrics... and music, for that matter... to "Gone Away" are entirely The Offspring's, and "Creep" is all Radiohead's.

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Chapter Twenty

"You're right; I can never lie

Let me go try to find a home

I can't wait; try to stay awake

Dead inside, bothered by the lie"

"Natural Life," Breaking Benjamin

Harry got out of bed slowly, groaning. He made his way over to the calendar that Dean had taped to the wall. "It's Friday already?" Harry looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you," he whispered. It was then that he realized it was very quiet, and pale sunlight was streaming through the windows. "Damn! Why didn't anyone wake me up?" he asked the empty room.

"Wake who? Whatsit?" Dean's sleepy voice sounded from behind his bed curtains. After a few more seconds, Harry heard springs squeak loudly, and then the curtains were ripped open. "What time is it?" Dean asked, already leaping out of bed. He snatched his watch off of the pile of clothes heaped up against the wall. "Shit!"

"That late, huh?" Harry asked wryly.

"Thirty minutes until the _end _of the school day," Dean replied. He looked around for a few seconds, then sighed. "I'm not even going to bother getting dressed today."

"You might want to later," Harry commented.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What for? There's really no reason to. Except for dinner, and I'm not really that hungry anyway."

"Well, I'm sure most people at Deity won't mind your choice of apparel..."

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot!" Dean smacked his forehead.

"You must have stayed up pretty late with Hermione last night."

"I didn't make it to the dorm until midnight, and then I couldn't get to sleep. The last time I checked the clock, it was half past one."

"That early?" Harry asked. "That's really not so bad, Dean."

"You've stayed up later? With... with _Malfoy_?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Er... yeah," Harry replied weakly, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Um, keep it down, would you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, sure, no problem."

"Particularly around Ron."

"No kidding. I _still _have tiny glass shards in my ass."

Harry laughed. "Your flying through the window would have been hilarious if the situation hadn't been so..."

"...Tense?" Dean offered.

Harry shrugged. "Just glad it's over."

"Yeah, and Ron's finally actually speaking to you again."

"Yeah. So, did you make plans with Hermione for tonight, too?"

"Actually, no. She's too focused on studying right now." Dean shuddered. "I want to avoid being sucked into _that_at all costs."

"So we're still going to Deity, right?"

"Yep."

"You going to go like that?" Harry asked, gesturing to Dean's blue plaid boxers.

Dean looked down. "Erm... no." He ran a hand through his hair, then grimaced. "I need a shower."

"By all means, go," Harry said, waving Dean away and wrinkling his nose.

"I don't smell that bad do I?"

Harry regarded Dean solemnly for a few seconds before saying, "Shower."

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"Guys!" Seamus whispered loudly, entering the bathroom. "Come on! I can't go You Know Where by myself!" He had somehow managed to pull his hair back into two tiny pigtails, and was wearing... of all things... a black and red schoolgirl uniform, complete with combat boots and a stud collar.

"Where the hell did you get a hold of _that_?" Dean asked, flinching as Harry attempted to apply mascara to his lashes. "Hey, don't _stab _me!" he complained.

Harry mock-frowned. "Stop moving, then." He studied Seamus' outfit for a second, then shrugged. Seamus was insane anyway.

"Like you look any better, _Tomas_," Seamus said, leaning against the wall next to Harry and Dean.

Dean merely shrugged. "I just don't want to get raped. You actually _like _that shit."

Harry laughed. "And that's wrong because...?"

Dean sighed. "Not _once _have you _ever _done up your hair like _that_, Harry," he replied, waving his hand at Seamus' head.

"It took me forever, and I'm going to have a _major _headache later." Seamus lifted himself up so he was sitting on the edge of one of the sinks. He leaned over to study Dean's make-up intently, almost bumping his head against Harry's.

"Cut it out, Seamus, or I'm going to spear Dean's eye with this damn thing!" Harry hissed, applying the finishing touches to Dean's make-up. "Perfect," he announced.

"And I don't know why you complain about my fashion sense when Harry's so good at putting on make-up and stuff," Seamus sniffed. Harry scrutinized Seamus' clothing, then started selecting make-up to slather on his face.

"Do you _want _to do it yourself?" Harry asked.

"No, no. I suck at that stuff," Seamus said hastily, closing his eyes.

Harry sighed and shook his head, then began putting liberal amounts of various kinds of cosmetics on Seamus' face. "We must have looked really weird when we went into that shop in Hogsmeade and started picking out eyeshadow and stuff."

Dean nodded. "And I don't think they bought our story about that make-up being for our girlfriends."

"And the girls are starting to ask about their missing 'beauty products,'" Seamus informed.

"Perfect," Harry groaned. "The last thing I need is Parvati Patil seeing _her_ body glitter in _my _trunk."

"Pray they never suspect us." Dean shuddered, then laughed. "Maybe we can put everything in Ron and Neville's trunks."

Harry cleared his throat. "Considering what Ron has just been put through lately..."

"...Probably not a good idea," Dean finished.

"Nope. Would you _stop _fidgeting, Seamus?"

"Dana," Seamus retorted. "I'm Dana, remember?"

"We're not at Deity yet, _sweetheart_," Harry replied, mimicking Seamus' voice.

Seamus giggled. "Ooh, when you talk like that... Harry, you're not really _with _Malfoy, are you?"

"Seamus..."

"I know, I know. Just hurry up, would you? Great costume, by the way."

Dean nodded. "It _does _look... er... good."

Harry shrugged, blushing. "I just wanted to do something outlandish tonight."

"Well, I'm pretty sure people are going to have a hard time recognizing you. Or rather, your alternate persona." Dean shook his head quickly. "It's all getting so confusing."

"You could totally be yet another whole different person tonight." Seamus opened his eyes and turned around to look in the mirror. "Perfect," he exclaimed, leaping off of the sink.

"No more alter egos. I can't handle anymore." Dean stood up. "We ready to go?"

Harry rose to his feet slowly and studied himself in the mirror. They had just finished studying faeries in Defense Against the Dark Arts and he'd decided to dress up as some sort of Dark pixie. Aside from the typical feaux diamond stud and the gold hoop earring he wore, his hair was streaked with silver, purple, and green, and saturated with glitter hairspray. He had donned low-rider, skintight silver pants and had wrapped one of Lavender's sheer green what's-its around his legs to look like something that harem girls wore in the movies he'd seen. He'd left all notion of a shirt behind, exposing a fake diamond stud in his bellybutton, a large, archane-looking symbol that he'd painted on his chest in dark purple, and twofake gold slave bands on his wrists. He'd done up his face in white and a deep violet, and had "borrowed" Malfoy's silvery lip gloss. "Something's missing," he murmured, squinting his eyes at his reflection.

"We'd better hurry before the line gets too long." Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"What're you nervous about?" Seamus asked. "We remembered Harry's invisibility cloak. There's no chance of being spotted."

"It's _Rock _Night."

"Friday night is _always _Rock Night," Seamus pointed out.

"Yeah, but _Dino's _the DJ tonight. That means guaranteed good music."

Harry laughed. "Just a second." He surveyed all of the junk he'd carried to the bathroom, then spotted what he was looking for. He inserted a feaux diamond stud in his nose, then winked at Dean and Seamus. "I hate not being able to wear this in class."

"It looks hot," Seamus purred.

Dean stared at Harry, then at Seamus, then back at Harry. "Now, what I'm about to say... I'm saying it as a completely, decidedly heterosexual male... Harry, you look great."

"Yeah, you look like some kind of Dark faerie."

Harry laughed. "Thanks, guys." He hid all of their make-up in a stall, then picked up his invisibility cloak. "Okay, let's go."

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A/N: Don't worry, the story's not over yet. I just wanted to apologize again for my lengthy description of Harry. But... geez! Can you just see him? Anyway, on with the chapter!

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Harry had already consumed three glasses of Ambrosia and was currently dancing with a guy that appeared to be a few years older than him, and pleasing to the eye. He also seemed rather eager to... not dance... with Harry. And Harry didn't want to "not dance." He was contemplating telling the guy to fuck off when Seamus cut in and saved the day. Within minutes, the guy was trying to "not dance" with Seamus. Harry sighed in relief and left the dance floor for yet another drink.

"Ambrosia?"

"No, not this time, Paris," Harry smiled.

Paris pressed his palms on the top of the bar. "What'll it be then? Vodka?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm going to go with the hard stuff. Water."

Paris smirked and leaned forward. "You sure you can handle it?"

"I'm pretty tough," Harry replied, making his voice low and husky.

"Mm, I'll bet you can, Ash." Paris winked and reached down below the bar to grab a bottle of water.

Harry twisted the top off and drank thirstily. "Thanks," he gasped when half of the bottle was drained.

"You don't usually resort to water this early," Paris remarked.

"Your Ambrosia is a little dry tonight," Harry retorted.

"Too much blue stuff?" Paris asked, frowning at an empty glass of what had been Ambrosia.

"Yeah. Who made the mix tonight?"

"Frankie."

Harry groaned and shook his head. "Well, this time he put in way too much salt."

"Well, I can't make a new batch unless everything I already have is gone." Paris shrugged.

"I'll help finish it off later... when I can salivate again."

"That bad, huh? Why did you order three, then?"

"Well, I thought the first drink was just a mistake and the second one would be better. And then I thought that maybe the third time would be the charm."

"If everyone in the club thinks like that, I'll definitely be able to make a new batch."

Harry shook his head. "I guess I'm not getting any more Ambrosia tonight." Paris just laughed. "See you when I get thirsty again," Harry said, making his way back into the crowd of dancers. Someone helped him up onto the raised platform and he smiled in thanks. After a few more seconds he realized he was looking at Malfoy, who was wearing some black and blue get-up that somehow managed to look classy and trashy at the same time. "Er... hi," he said stupidly, amazed yet again at how talented Malfoy was with costumes.

It was then that Harry realized that Malfoy had no idea who _he _was. "Hey. Come here often?"

Harry shrugged and smirked sexily. "Only for you, baby."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "Pot... er... Ash?"

Harry laughed and leaned forward. "If you want me to be," he breathed into Malfoy's ear.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Malfoy asked, not blinking. "That is, I meant to say... _how _the hell did you do that to yourself?"

"Make-up," Harry replied simply.

"Er... right. You did a good job. Makes your eyes look greener."

"Oh, so you notice my eyes?" Harry asked, feeling oddly pleased.

"Who doesn't? They're huge."

Harry felt the pleasure fade away. "Ah."

"That would be a good thing, _Ash_." Malfoy studied Harry's eyes for a moment. "How did you manage to make them look so... slanted?"

"Make-up."

"Yes, but what did you _do _with the make-up to make them look like that?"

"Maybe I'll show you sometime."

"It makes you look foreign."

"Well, that's what I was going for."

"Do you want to dance?" Malfoy asked abruptly.

"Hm. Well, you see, Malfoy," Harry said, leaning toward the other boy conspiratorially, "this is a dance club. And I'm standing here on the dance floor." He pulled back and straightened up. "So I'm going to stand here and yodel."

"Oh, shut up, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, masking a grin with a scowl. "You know what I meant."

Harry pretended to think for a moment, then nodded slowly, keeping his expression solemn. "Yes, Draco Malfoy, I shall dance with you." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Um, Malfoy, did you just shiver?"

"No. Stop drinking so much Ambrosia," Malfoy replied, slipping his arms around Harry's waist. He started rubbing against Harry in time with the music.

0000

"I've only had three glasses tonight, and they were mostly salt," Harry protested, wrapping his arms around Malfoy's neck.

"Whatever you say, Potter," Malfoy murmured. "Whatever you say."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy." Malfoy just snickered.

"Another water, Ash?" Paris asked, assuming a concerned expression. "Maybe I should cut you off."

"Shut up and give me the damned water," Harry snapped. "You should consider taking those pretzels off the bar for tonight."

"The Ambrosia's really _that _salty?"

"Yes," both Harry and Malfoy replied in unison.

"Now, do what Ash said and give us some bloody water," Malfoy ordered.

"Ooh, you're sexy when you're angry," Paris said sarcastically, winking at Ash when Malfoy frowned.

"Is service at Deity always this terrible?" Malfoy asked the ceiling.

"Huh," Harry replied, nodding thanks to Paris when he handed him a bottle of water. "The Underworld is worse."

"Aw, you're just saying that," Paris clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes before moving on to serve another customer.

"The Underworld?"

"Another dance club. Sucks." Harry gulped down the entire bottle of water before continuing. "Dirty, dingy, bad drinks, bad light and sound systems, terrible music, slow service, and a bunch of people acting tough."

"I've never heard of the place," Malfoy commented, sipping his water more slowly to savor the feeling of his throat and tongue not being dry.

"That's because it sucks," Harry stated simply.

"You should tell me where it is so I can go there and complain loudly about how much it sucks."

Harry laughed. "We should go there together sometime and complain loudly about how much it sucks." He grinned. "When I went there with Dean and Seamus, I didn't get to make fun of the place because Dean was too nervous around the biker posers and Seamus was too drunk."

"Are they open tonight?" Malfoy asked casually, tracing the rim of his bottle of water with his index finger.

"Yeah. Not as late as Deity, though."

"How late are we talking?"

"They close in an hour."

"Midnight?"

"I know, I know. They suck, okay?"

"I got it. We should go now."

"You like to complain too much."

"You're just itching to go verbally trash that place, too."

"You're right. Let's go now." Harry stood up and grabbed Malfoy's wrist before hurrying out of the club.

"What about your friends?" Malfoy asked when they were outside.

"They'll be in there until closing time."

"Nine to nine. They don't keep the same bartenders all night, do they?" Harry merely quirked an eyebrow. "What?" Malfoy asked defensively. "I'm not as interested in people as you are."

"Then how the hell do you know so much about them?" Harry asked.

"I'm interested in people when they make idiots out of themselves," Malfoy explained. "That doesn't mean I'm interested in people."

"Well, you know, Malfoy, people _are _everywhere."

"Which is why I'll be happy living in my mansion away from the rest of the world."

"Malfoy the Hermit. How will you make a living then? Blackmail people? Oh, wait, that's right, you're too rich to have to earn a living."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm not poor like you..."

"Ah, yes," Harry sighed dramatically, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead as if he were about to faint. "Whatever shall I do?"

Malfoy shoved Harry. "You're crazy, Potter. You know that?"

"Meh, meh, meh, meh, meh. Meh, meh, meh?" Harry said, moving his thumb and fingers together so it looked like his hand was talking. Malfoy merely stared at him. "Meh?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

Malfoy shook his head slowly. "How much farther until we reach the club?"

"One more block," Harry replied, now looking up at the tiny strip of sky that appeared between the two large, crumbling buildings that made up the alley. "We'll leave before closing time, though."

"Aw, but I want to really make fun of the place."

"Believe me, you'll have plenty to work with in that amount of time."

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Harry and Malfoy exited The Underworld, both laughing and clutching their stomachs. "Their slogan should be..." Malfoy interrupted himself with a burst of loud laughter, "The Underworld... We Suck." Harry leaned against the wall, laughing so hard that he made no sound at all. "And I know those walls were white at one point," Malfoy continued. "When was the last time they painted the interior?"

"Two months ago," Harry managed to choke out before laughing uncontrollably again.

"I still think..." Malfoy broke off to giggle, "that it was so funny..." more laughter, "when you..." even more laughter, "tapped on that guy's shoulder and knicked his drink when he turned the other way." He giggled for about a half a minute, then sighed. Before laughing again. "He looked so confused." And yet more laughter. "And then you drained the glass and filled it with the ashes from the ash tray... and he actually tried to drink them."

"Which..." Harry gasped, kneeling on the ground, "goes to show... just how drunk... he was."

"It's going to hurt to stand up straight tomorrow if we keep laughing like this," Malfoy pointed out.

"Shut up. You're ruining it for me."

"Agh. I cannot _believe _how much that place sucked."

"I told you so," Harry said, rising to his feet.

"It _royally _sucked."

"Yep."

"Its suckiness was of mythic proportions."

"Yep," Harry repeated, starting to walk back to Deity.

"Let's go back there next Friday."

"Certainly," Harry agreed.

"God, that place _sucked_!"

"Yes, I believe we've covered that. Several times. For the past forty-five minutes," Harry said, grinning.

"Really? Feels like we were there for five minutes."

Harry giggled. "Yeah. Time sure flies when you're complaining about how crappy something is."

They walked out of the alley and out into the open air. Harry shivered, crossing his arms. Malfoy reached out and wrapped his arm around Harry's waist so they were closer together. "That help?"

Harry nodded, not wanting to think about how wrong the situation should have been and how right it felt.

"Do you know anymore places that are that much fun?" Malfoy asked.

"Plenty," Harry replied.

"We should go to them sometime."

"Definitely." They walked together in silence for a bit.

"Oh, God, that place _sucked_!" Malfoy exclaimed, bursting into laughter again.

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After fifteen songs, two shots of Jack Daniel's, three bottles of water, and six trips to the bathroom, Harry was leaning against Malfoy and dancing to the end of some techno-rock song, which meant Dino was selecting another set of songs; Dean was justified when he had said the music was always good when Dino was in charge of Rock Night. The only somewhat shoddy songs were those that were played while Dino was preparing another round of great music. And sure enough, as soon as the house music began to fade away, The Offspring's "Gone Away" took over the sound system.

"Oh, I know this song," Malfoy said. "What's it called?"

Harry laughed. "'Gone Away.' By The Offspring."

"Laugh all you want, Potter. I'm sorry I'm not as experienced with music as you are."

"You just probably aren't allowed to have a CD player."

Malfoy grinned ruefully. "Yep. And, thanks to you, I know how much I'm missing out."

Harry shrugged. "Buy one. Now shut up so I can hear the music." He zoned out and started singing along.

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A/N: And again with the story's not being over yet. HELP ME! I'm usually pretty good at listening to lyrics and knowing what's being said, but I still make mistakes (see my rendition of Korn's "Trash." I'll be fixing those lyrics as soon as I'm finished with the story). So if you could look over the lyrics for this chapter and let me know if I made more mistakes, that would be great. Now, back to the story!

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"Maybe, in another life, I could find you there

Gone away before your time... I can't do it; so unfair"

Harry and Malfoy began to press against each other softly in time with the music. Harry sighed, feeling Malfoy's heart beat.

"Leaving flowers on your grave to show that I still care"

"This song always makes me think about how I'd feel if someone I love died," Malfoy said, staring over Harry's head at something in the distance.

"And nobody you know has ever died before?" Harry asked wryly.

"Nobody I love," Malfoy replied honestly.

Harry nodded. "Now be quiet."

"I reach to the skies and call out your name

And if I could trade, I would

And it feels like heaven's so far away

And it feels like the world is so cold, now that you've gone away"

Harry was somewhat frustrated when he felt his eyes tear up; not only did the water welling up in his eyes threaten to smear his make-up, but Malfoy was sure to make fun of him or something like that. He blinked them back, forcing his thoughts to go somewhere other than dead loved ones.

"Potter? Are you okay?" Malfoy asked, bending his knees slightly so his eyes were closer to being level with Harry's.

"Yeah," Harry said quickly, blinking. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Malfoy just shrugged. Harry shrugged in reply and they resumed dancing. After some song by The Presidents Of The United States Of America, Harry practically squeaked when a slower, softer song filled the room.

"Let me guess... you love this song?" Malfoy asked sarcastically, a smile playing at his lips.

"Radiohead. 'Creep.'"

"Isn't 'Creep' by the Stone Temple Pilots?"

"They both have a song called 'Creep.'"

"Are they the same?"

"No. Shut up."

"You seem to be saying that a lot tonight."

"Because you can't seem to not talk."

"You're talking, too."

"Shut up, Malfoy, and listen to the damned song."

"Ooh, I like these lyrics," Malfoy commented after awhile.

"How can you know if you don't listen to them?" Harry snapped.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be quiet."

"I hate it when people say that."

"Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay. Just relax."

Harry leaned against Malfoy again and resumed singing along softly.

"I want you to notice when I'm not around

I wish I were special; you're so very special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here"

"This song's pretty self-dep..." Malfoy was cut off when Harry's hand clamped onto his mouth.

"This happens to be my favorite part of the song, you twit."

"Hmhrmphrph."

"Malfoy!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and flicked his tongue against Harry's fingers.

"Ew, that feels weird!" Harry complained, yanking his hand away.

"Ssh!" Malfoy hissed, pressing his finger to his lips. "It's my favorite part of the song!"

Harry sneered and wiped his hand off on Malfoy's sleeve.

"Hey!" Malfoy exclaimed, attempting to step away. His retreat was hampered by the large crowd of dancers on the platform. "This happens to be very expens... hey! Cut it out!" He attempted to swat Harry's hand away. "That's enou... stop!"

Harry laughed. "It won't stain, Malfoy."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?"

"I don't want your saliva wiped off on my shirt!"

"It's _your _saliva," Harry pointed out.

"Agh!"

"How very articulate, Malfoy."

"Shut up!"

"Oh, look who wants silence now."

"You're the most irritating human being I've ever met!"

"Well, I feel exactly the same way about you!"

Harry and Malfoy glared at each other for a few seconds before kissing each other hard. A couple who was dancing next to them made catcalls and cheered them on. They left quickly when Malfoy glared at them.

Harry laughed. "They weren't hurting us or anything."

"Yes, well, they were bloody annoying."

"And that explains everything. End of story," Harry said, eyes twinkling.

"Exactly. You still want to dance?"

"I'm still out here on the dance floor, aren't I?"

"Don't be such a smart ass, Potter," Malfoy commanded.

"Right, because you cover every inch in that department."

"I would rather be covering every inch of something else right about now," Malfoy remarked, eyeing Harry suggestively.

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Now? Here?" He looked around.

"Why not?" Malfoy asked.

"Well, if you thought the comments we were getting before were annoying..." Harry eyed another pair of dancers that were slowly making their way down to the floor. "And we might get stepped onor kicked around..."

"So let's go somewhere else," Malfoy suggested.

"Um... well, Dean and Seamus are still here, and I can't leave without them."

"And why is that?" Malfoy was beginning to look slightly irritated.

"Because when they finally decide to leave as well, they'll look for me. And when they can't find me, they'll panic and tell someone I'm missing."

"That didn't seem to be an issue when we left to go to The Underworld." Malfoy was now more than slightly irritated.

"Yes, but I also knew we'd be back before Deity closed," Harry replied.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to come back here if I have sex with you. We tend to get a little enthusiastic, and then the next thing you know, it's morning and we're late for school."

"And that's the only reason."

"Yes. Promise."

"Okay. But you..."

"I know, I owe you."

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Harry couldn't get to sleep. It was okay though; he had pretty much become more or less an insomniac over the past few weeks. In fact, the only times he had actually been able to fit in a full night's sleep were, oddly enough, when Malfoy had crawled into bed with him. And that scared the hell out of him. He was relying more and more on Malfoy, and if he allowed his dependency to grow, he'd never be able to part ways at the end of the school year.

"Harry?" Dean's whisper interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Was that... was that Malfoy you were dancing with tonight?"

Harry hesitated, waiting to see if Ron was still asleep. "Um, yeah. Why?"

"No reason," Dean yawned. "I just... I haven't seen you have that much fun in awhile."

Fun? Dean thought he'd had fun? Well, maybe he had had a _little_ fun, but he'd been trying so hard to avoid even the _subject _of sex that he had made himself paranoid and exhausted. Harry had had to leave Deity _before closing time_. Something he'd never done before. And Malfoy had looked... what, annoyed? Tired? ...Hurt?

Harry groaned and flopped over onto his side, willing himself to drift off to sleep. But the instant he closed his eyes, he knew he wouldn't be able to; Malfoy had presented a night full of possibilities, as always, but Harry had had to turnhim down. Because he died a little every time he and Malfoy had sex while knowing he'd never feel that... good... again when school was over. So he was avoiding Malfoy when he could. Just so he wouldn't get too attached to say goodbye without having his heart ripped out.

But, as Harry finally drifted off to sleep, he knew deep down that it was already too late.

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"Harry?" Ron asked, shaking Harry gently. "We'll miss class if we don't go downstairs for breakfast within the next five minutes."

Harry groaned and opened one eye slowly. "What?" he croaked, attempting to sit up.

Ron eyed him worriedly. "You don't look so good. Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"Erm... no," Harry replied tiredly, yawning.

"Right. Go back to sleep."

"But I've already missed too many classes..."

"You don't look so good, Harry. I'm sure none of the professors want you sitting in their classrooms while you're sick." Ron pushed at Harry's shoulder, getting him to lie back down. "Besides, you might be contagious."

"Ron, I'm just tired..."

"Shut up and go back to sleep, Harry," Ron commanded, already leaving the room.

Harry stared after him for a few seconds, shrugged, then fell asleep.

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"Potter?"

Harry moaned in protest as he was brought out of the wonderful world of sleep. "Ungh?" he grunted, refusing to open his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

Harry now realized that the voice that was addressing him belonged to Malfoy. His eyes snapped open. "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

"Well, seeing if you were all right," Malfoy replied simply. "Do you need to goget Pomfrey?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. Malfoy looked... concerned. "I was just tired this morning, so Ron told me to stay in bed." He waited for another minute or so, then asked, "What are you still doing here?"

An expression that couldn't be classified as anything other than hurt flashed across Malfoy's face. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Not really," Harry replied, "now that I'm awake." Another pause, then, "You actually want to stay up here with me?"

"Well, of course." At Harry's confused expression, Malfoy hastily added, "That is, you still owe me a round of sex."

"So, if I hadn't been okay, would you have wanted to have sex anyway?" Harry asked wryly.

"Would you be freaked out if I told you that the thought might have crossed my mind?"

Harry laughed. "You only would have _thought _about it?"

Malfoy snorted. "What kind of a sicko do you take me for?" At Harry's smirk, Malfoy shoved his shoulder playfully. "Very well, then. I guess I'll be leaving you now."

Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist. "I'll get bored up here all by myself."

Malfoy shrugged. "Not my problem, is it?"

Harry sighed. "Are you trying to get me angry again?"

"Yes. Did it work?"

"Up until I realized what you were doing."

"Damn. Guess I'll have to work on that, then."

"You've almost got it down perfect. It's just..." Harry trailed off. He wasn't sure if he wanted Malfoy to know that he actually noticed things about him.

"What? Just what?" Malfoy pressed.

"Well... when you're trying to piss me off, the leftcorner of your lips do this twitchy thing," Harry pointed out. "It's barely even noticeable. Anyone who doesn't know about it won't be able to tell the difference. Honest."

Malfoy smiled. "But you noticed. Been staring at my lips, Potter?" Harry blushed, bringing a laugh out of Malfoy. "It's okay. Lack of sex makes things like that happen."

Sex. They hadn't had sex for a couple of days. Part of Harry never wanted to have sex with Malfoy ever again. The other part was screaming for something to happen soon. Very soon. He couldn't give in, though; if he felt this way now, he didn't even want to think about how he'd feel on the last day of school, knowing that he and Malfoy would never have sex again.

"Are you cold?" Malfoy asked when Harry shuddered.

"No," Harry replied.

"...Okay. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"Good." Malfoy leaned in and kissed Harry languidly.

And Harry forgot about any notion of resistance. But at the same time he was scared out of his wits. What was wrong with him? Lately, he'd been feeling like he didn't even know who he was anymore. Everyone thought he was different. He thought he was different. He wasn't spending as much time with his best friends as he used to, and what surprised him was that he didn't want to. And he was confiding in Slytherins. And he was fucking a Slytherin. And he didn't want to stop seeingsaid Slytherin when school was over.

Malfoy pushed Harry back into the pillows. "It's okay, Potter," he whispered, tugging at Harry's boxers until his cock was exposed. "Just relax."

Relax? Right. Just... relax. That was another thing that unnerved Harry; Malfoy seemed to be the only person that could put him at ease now. Only Malfoy. A Slytherin. A Slytherin who _might _not become a Death Eater.

Harry inhaled sharply and arched his back as Malfoy's warm mouth closed over his cock. He clamped both hands onto the headboard behind him, knowing his climax would be explosive; he had a lot of tension to release.

Malfoy went to work, doing exactly what Harry liked. He always did. Somehow, Malfoy always knew exactly what Harry wanted. Needed. What was he going to do when Malfoy would no longer be able to give him what he wanted?

Harry closed his eyes, willing his body to push his mind out of the way and take over. Why did one Slytherin matter so much to him anyway? And wasn't Malfoy supposed to be his archenemy?

Harry repressed a snort. None of that really mattered now, anyway. He was already growing apart from his two best friends, disregarding his "destiny," revealing more of himself to Slytherins than to his fellow Gryffindors, and having great sex every chance he got with the prince of the Slytherins. He was changing, that was for sure.

Harry closed his eyes. Maybe he wasn't changing. Maybe he was just finally letting what had been inside him all along creep out. If this was the case, Harry wanted to go right back to lying to himself and everybody around him. Because if what he was feeling now was the truth, then lying was much, much easier.

Malfoy's nails dug into Harry's sides, making Harry wince. Harry knew that Malfoy hated it when it took so long for Harry to even acknowledge the sensation of intense pleasure that sex brought on, let alone come. But Harry felt like he was dying inside. Something was wrong with him, and he didn't know what. No, he knew what was wrong with him. He just didn't accept it. Because he wasn't sure how to deal with it. How to make it better. Because maybe he couldn't make it better.

Harry was startled when he finally came. His mind and his body had apparently separated. Unfortunately, Harry had been stuck with his mind, so any sense of pleasure that his body had achieved was dwarfed by the confusion and depression whirling around in his head.

"A few weeks ago, you said that you were jealous about my being able to 'be somewhere else,'" Malfoy said calmly, stretching out on the bed next to Harry.

"Yeah...?"

"Well, I know how you felt now."

Harry bit his lip guiltily. Malfoy had noticed, then. "Sorry," he whispered, rolling over onto his side so his back was facing Malfoy. When he received no reply from the other boy, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly to hold back tears and pressed his knuckles against his lips to keep them from trembling. Something was definitely wrong with him. And he knew that it wasn't really Malfoy's fault.

After about a half an hour passed, Harry finally drifted off to sleep. And right before sleep claimed him completely, he could have sworn he heard Malfoy whisper, "It's all right, Harry. It'll be all right, love," before kissing his temple gently and leaving the room. But it was probably just a dream. Right?

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A/N: I'm not too happy with this chapter. I don't know why, I just don't think it lived up to my expectations. Anyway, I'm really sorry about the delay. First I was sick (again), then I had to make up homework, then I had family situations. Oh, yeah, if you want to check out the progress of the fics I'm working on (including this one. duh), check out my bio page. I've got a list of fanfics (all in the Harry Potter fandom) that I'll be posting eventually. And all but one involve Harry and Draco in some way or another.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry about the delay yet again, but first I had to put up with my younger sister and her screaming friends (courtesy of a little birthday slumber party), and for some reason that I can't fathom, they love hanging around me and stuff. Also, I recently discovered this website that focuses mainly on Spike/Angel fanfiction authored by sabershadowkitten (I am a fan of that particular relationship, but it has to involve just the right mixture of love and hate, like with Draco and Harry. But Spike and Angel fanfics also have to have a higher level of maturity, you know? So, while I really like the Spike/Angel scenario when it's played out right, it's usually difficult to achieve the level of slashy goodness needed. I'm actually a beta reader for an author on this website who writes ultimately good Angel/Spike fiction), and I've been hooked on reading all of the fics on the site. I just finished reading half of them, and decided I'd better work on this, too. But, mm, that Spike/Angel site. It's a lot like the whole Harry/Draco thing if you think about it, with Angel and Spike representing the later years. Anyway, enough about that. Thank you so much, reviewers! Here's chapter twenty-one (four more chapters to go. Well, five, including the epilogue. Which I might not post)!

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Chapter Twenty-One

"Now I'm lost in you like I always do

And I'd die to win because I'm born to lose"

"Firefly," Breaking Benjamin

"...Draco, honey, McGonagall's frowning at you," Pansy said quietly, eyeing her friend worriedly.

"Sod off," Draco said absently, still staring at Harry's empty seat. His Golden Boy hadn't shown up for any classes that morning. He knew this because Dean had told him so. And Seamus had told him that Harry hadn't been in his bed that morning when everyone else had awakened. Draco was beginning to get a little more than slightly anxious, twisting his hands around his wand nervously until he nearly snapped it in half. Where was Harry?

"Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Where?"

"What?" McGonagall scowled, looking him over.

Draco cleared his throat. "Er, huh?"

McGonagall's lips pursed together. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would kindly refrain from interrupting our lesson..."

"Sorry," Draco mumbled, still shooting worried glances at where Harry should have been sitting.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Pansy hissed. "And where's Harry?"

"That's what's wrong."

"Huh?"

"Harry's missing."

Pansy's eyes grew wide. "...Missing?"

"No, not _that _kind of missing," Draco snapped impatiently. "That is... oh, I don't know." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "That boy is making me a nervous wreck."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Pansy said wryly, smirking.

"Pansy?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"Shut up."

Pansy's response was to giggle quietly. "You've got it so bad, baby."

Draco sighed again. "I know. And it really sucks sometimes."

They both shut up when McGonagall turned away from the chalkboard to face them, but resumed their conversation when she turned back tocontinue writing instructions.

"So," Pansy whispered, leaning closer to Draco, "when was the last time you saw him?"

"Earlier this morning. I left him when he fell asleep." Draco wished he hadn't. Something was bothering his Harry and he didn't even know where to find him, let alone make him feel better. "Didn't see him at breakfast, and Dean and Seamus said that they haven't seen him either."

"Hm." Pansy pressed her lips together in thought, her index finger tapping her temple rhythmically. "Where does he usually go when he wants to be alone?"

"Um... sometimes he goes to the Quidditch pitch to fly. But that's only at night." Draco resisted the urge to smack his forehead repeatedly. "God damnit, I'm not sure."

Pansy sighed and patted Draco's knee under the table. "It'll be all right, sweetie," she murmured, though she wasn't altogether certain herself; Harry had a tendency to tear himself apart emotionally when he was alone. "Um... do you remember exactly what happened before he fell asleep?"

Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Took him forever to come, and even then he wasn't really 'with it.'"

"So something had already been wrong when you left him," Pansy confirmed.

"You don't think I did something, do you?"

"I don't have all the answers, Draco," Pansy snapped, worried about both of her friends. "You need to go and try to find him. I'll get your homework and stuff." She began to push him away gently. "Go, baby. Go make things right again."

Draco nodded and cleared his throat loudly. "Professor McGonagall? I'm not feeling..."

"Go, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall interrupted him. "Make sure you get your homework assignments from another student because you still have to turn them in the next time you have this class."

"Right. Thanks," Draco muttered, rising to his feet and practically springing out of the room.

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Draco had searched the entire castle and wasdashing across the grounds, nearly suffocating from lack of air, when he saw something twitch in the distance. He froze in his tracks, nearly pitching forward onto the grass, and squinted at the tiny figure to see it better. It was Harry all right. He was standing at the shore of the lake, skipping rocks across the surface of the water. Draco stood still, watching him for a few minutes, before approaching him slowly, thinking about what the hell he was going to say. He stopped when he was about six feet away from Harry. "Um, Potter?"

Harry spun around. "Where the hell did you come from, Malfoy?" He was poised as if he were about to throw the rock that was in his hand straight at him. "How long were you standing there?"

"Just got here right now," Draco replied, eyeing the rock. "Jumpy, much?"

Harry looked at the rock as if he were just noticing that it was in his hand for the first time. "Oh, um, well, you know..." he half-turned and skipped the rock across the surface of the lake before facing Draco again. "What's on your mind?"

"Actually, I was about to ask you the same question..."

"Nothing's wrong, Malfoy," Harry said shortly, turning away to face the lake.

"Liar," Draco stated simply. "That muscle in your jaw always twitches when something's bothering you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "What's it matter to you, anyway?"

"Well, it's affecting our sex life," Draco lied. In truth, he just couldn't stand to see Harry miserable. And to be honest, it sort of annoyed him. He'd been a wreck for the past month or so, and all because the Golden Boy kept twisting his heart this way and that. Oh well, maybe Draco was a certified masochist, but he loved being with Harry, despite the fact that the Boy Who Lived was constantly breaking his heart and putting it back together again. Actually, that was probably the reason Draco loved Harry so much, besides the fighting, anyway; Harry assured Draco that he was, in fact, alive. Draco had honestly thought himself a cruel, heartless, unfeeling bastard until Harry had come along and hurt him, set him on edge, pissed him off. Harry had crawled under his skin, and now Draco couldn't get him out. Not that he tried. Not anymore.

"God forbid," Harry said sarcastically. "Look, everything's okay." Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Harry sighed and looked off into the distance. "Okay, something's bothering the hell out of me. But I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly, looking directly at Draco long enough to get his point across before looking away again.

"Potter..."

"Malfoy."

Draco bit back a sigh. "If you need me later..."

"I'll let you know."

"Okay." Draco stayed still for a few more seconds, then turned around slowly and left, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He shouldn't have left Harry that morning. The Golden Boy had built up his goddamned walls again, and this time Draco wasn't sure if he could break through. He blinked back unbidden tears and wrapped his arms around himself. He hated the fact that there were still classes going on because he needed to think and the Astronomy Tower would currently be filled with annoying fellow students and that stupid professor.

Draco looked up at the clouds, then sighed and dropped down onto the grass right there in the middle of Hogwarts' grounds. This was as good a place as any to sort out his thoughts, and at least here there were no obstacles blocking his view of the sky.

"Potter," he murmured, folding his arms behind his head, "whatever am I going to do about you?"

That was another reason Draco loved Harry so much; the boy was so damned unpredictable that it was impossible for Draco to be bored around him. When he'd seen his Golden Boy at Deity two nights ago... Christ, he'd never seen anything so sexy and alluring. He would have done anything Harry asked him to do. Not that he'd ever actually _tell _him that. If Harry knew what kind of power he held when he wore that costume, he'd be invincible. And when they'd went to The Underworld, Draco hadthought he'd die from laughing so hard. He'd never had so much fun in his entire life.

The small smile that had been playing at the corners of Draco's lips faded. And then he'd fucked everything up somehow. Harry was killing himself over something, and Draco didn't have the slightest idea how to help him. That was when Harry's unpredictability became frustrating.

"Son of a bitch," Draco muttered, directing the comment more at himself than anyone else. He somehow always managed to drive away the people he cared about most. And the people he didn't want around always stayed. Bastards.

A mosquito attempted to land on Draco's nose, but he swatted it away before replacing his arm beneath his head. Draco was lying to himself when he said thathe didn't know what was bothering Harry. He knew he was partly responsible for Harry's inner turmoil, but not completely. He was just the catalyst. Harry had been lying to himself, had built up walls around himself for so long... and Draco was forcing him to realize it. Draco was managing to tear down those walls. Of course, last night he'd fucked up yet again and driven Harry to hastily repair those walls, but he could break them down again. At least, he hoped so.

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then again, who didn't lie to themselves? But Harry was different. Harry's lie was huge. Harry's lie involved the whole damned wizarding world. And it was killing him. It was killing their relationship. And Draco refused to let their relationship die when it hadn't really even officially started. Draco simply would not accept being left with another empty shell. And if he couldn't get Harry to face the truth, then... Draco would die inside. It was that simple. He wouldn't care about a damned thing anymore because, somehow, Harry had managed to become his everything, and if everything to him was gone, what was the point of going on?

Draco laughed hollowly. He had seen this coming since that night in the supply closet. Everything he genuinely loved faded away, died. Why should Harry be any different? But he wasn't going to just sit back and watch the love of his life go. No, he was going to fight with everything he had to keep Harry with him. And if that didn't work... well, then, maybe his parents were right. Maybe it just wasn't worth all the pain to love someone. Draco shook his head. No, if he had to go through everything with Harry all over again, he would in a heartbeat. Even if he had to get his heart ripped out and trampled on repeatedly.

Draco opened his eyes when he felt the first fat raindrop hit him square on the nose, splashing over the rest of his face. But he didn't get up. He didn't want to leave the softness of the earth, didn't want to face the hardness of the life inside Hogwarts and the possibility of Harry leaving him.

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Draco was trying not to stare at Harry when he saw the other boy's hand move distinctly underneath the table. He looked at him slowly, his eyes questioning. Harry nodded, then left the Great Hall. Draco waited an agonizingly slow ten minutes, then stood up and left as well. He entered the hidden room by the suit of armor and looked at Harry for a few seconds. When he opened his mouth to say something, Harry cut him off. "I'm on top tonight," he said, his voice brisk and businesslike, "since I owe you for yesterday and all."

Draco, his throat oddly filled up with a strange, baseball-sized lump, could only nod. Maybe he could reach Harry afterward...

Harry was slipping out of his typical, baggy black T-shirt, this time sporting the logo of some band called Lost Prophets, then unfastened his jeans and kicked them to the floor.

"What, commando?" Draco managed to say.

"Wanted to get it over with fast," Harry said quickly, hurrying toward Draco.

Draco nodded, swallowing. Right, so the objective was to get his _own _clothes off now...

"What, need help?" Harry joked humorlessly. He unfastened Draco's pants and tugged them down while Draco slipped his shirt over his head. "Get down on the floor," Harry commanded, already pulling Draco down with him.

"What do you want tonight?" Draco asked.

"Thought it was obvious," Harry replied, leaning over Draco and nipping his ear. "Want to fuck you."

Draco normally would have been majorly turned on by Harry's assertiveness... okay, so he was extremely turned on now... but emotionally he was struggling not to grab Harry by the shoulders and shake him until the stupid boy started talking to him. He buried his fingers into Harry's hair and smashed his lips against his, kissing him hard. Draco was, in fact, a very good actor. Yes, he deserved a bloody academy award.

Harry kissed him back enthusiastically, their tongues battling for dominance, while he reached down to stroke Draco's cock. "You want me, Malfoy?" he whispered, scraping his teeth along the vein at Draco's neck before sucking the soft skin there.

"God, yes," Draco gasped, bucking up into Harry's hand.

Harry smirked and entered Draco, drawing a moan from the other boy. He kissed Draco sloppily before he began to move in and out of him, muttering things under his breath that Draco couldn't quite catch, what with the extreme pleasure. "Fuck," he gasped, digging his nails into Harry's biceps.

Harry grunted and began to drive into him even harder, pressing his hands against the nearby wall and the floor for leverage. "Oh, shit," he groaned, doubling over. "Malfoy, I can't..." his words were cut off by his orgasm, leaving Draco writhing and bucking on the floor. "Damn, I'm sorry," Harry said through clenched teeth, reaching out to stroke Draco until he came.

Draco was ashamed of his orgasm. Even though Harry hadn't done it intentionally, he'd managed to make Draco feel absolutely degraded. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair shakily. "'S okay," he lied. "Rough day at the office?"

Harry exhaled and rose to his feet, pulling on his jeans. "You could say that." He had his back to Draco, and Draco knew that he wasavoiding facinghim intentionally. Not only was Harry embarrassed, he was feeling extremely guilty. Draco bit his lip and stood up as well, reaching down to grab his shirt. "Are you..."

"I've got a test to study for," Harry said abruptly, cutting him off. "See you tomorrow." And with that, he hurried out of the room and down the corridor, his footsteps fading away, each step making Draco feel more and more like a whore.

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He was doing it again. Draco was getting piss drunk. He sat in the armchair that he and Harry had occupied before, chugging away at a bottle of whiskey. When the bottle was drained completely, he cursed and tossed it at the fireplace in front of him.

Everyone regarded Draco as heartless. If that were so, why did he hurt so much? "Sodding bastard," he cursed, slumping in the armchair. Once again, the insult was directed more at himself than at anyone else. Then Draco's fists clenched. Yes, he was angry at everyone else. Because everyone else had made Harry the way he was. If they hadn't filled his head with a false destiny and such, Draco and Harry would be happily together. Maybe. No, definitely. The alcohol said so.

Maybe Draco could convince Harry to leave every single goddamned one of his so-called "friends" behind. That way Harry wouldn't have to lie and could be himself. The Harry that Draco knew existed inside that stupid wall of his. And then Draco could metaphorically... or perhaps literally... stick his tongue out at Dumbledore while Harry smiled and actually enjoyed himself, and forgot about the dangers of Voldemort and his moronic Death Eaters...

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Like that would ever happen. Harry felt too "responsible" to just turn his back on the wizarding world... and the Muggle one, too, for that matter... and go away with a Malfoy, of all people.

A tear was making its way down Draco's cheek, but he didn't care. Sure, he was a pathetic bastard, but he was a pathetic bastard that was hopelessly in love with someone who was supposed to be his archenemy. The supposed bane of his existence was the love of his life. Damnit. Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone who was actually easily attainable? Because that would have been too... easy. "Fuck off," Draco spat, waving his hand dismissively at his thoughts.

"Geez," Millicent said from behind him. "I was just coming to see if you were all right."

"Damnit, Millie," Draco cursed, jumping slightly. "Don't scare me like that."

"Harry trouble?" Millie asked, already knowing the answer.

"Am I that fucking obvious?" Draco snapped.

"To anyone who knows about your relationship, yes," Millie replied calmly.

Draco sighed in annoyance, then sighed again in resignation. "Why the hell does it have to be so hard?" he asked brokenly.

Millie wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "Because if we didn't have heartbreak, we wouldn't appreciate loving as much," she whispered, her silent tears mingling with Draco's.

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Draco opened his dry, puffy eyes the next morning, resolving never to drink or cry that much ever again. Malfoys weren't supposed to be so emotional. Then again, it wasn't like Draco's parents had ever truly acknowledged him as a genuine Malfoy. Sure, he was the heir. He would inherit the estate, the money, everything. So what? He was their only child, so they had no choice. The bastards. He giggled, thinking about how they'd react if they found out that he loved the one boy that stood in the way of their master. Stupid "Dark Lord." He was getting old and senile. Draco had always thought of him as psychotic. Trying to kill his Harry...

Getting up out of the armchair and shoving Millicent aside lightly, he rose to his feet. His Harry. That was funny. If anything, Harry had managed to make Draco feel like his bitch the night before. Draco took a deep, shaky breath, shivering. He hated feeling this way about someone. What had happened to the tough, uncaring bastard that he had once been? Killed by the Golden Boy. Of course, the only time Draco missed that persona was when he was wallowing in self-pity.

"You going to eat something?" Pansy's voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Christ, would you and your girlfriend _please _stop doing that?" Draco hissed, pressing his fingers to his temples.

Pansy laughed softly. "Sorry, honey." She sat down on the arm of the chair, stroking her girlfriend's hair. "If it helps, he's probably just as miserable as you are."

"Thanks, love," Draco said, exiting the common room. When he was on the other side of the portrait hole, he leaned against the wall. "Doesn't help, though. Just makes it worse."

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"Potter?" Draco whispered, trying to draw the other boy's attention without attracting everyone else's.

"What?" Harry mumbled, putting an assortment of roots into the bubbling cauldron in front of them. Professor Snape had named off a list of partners for the class assignment and, sure enough, he'd delightfully paired Draco with Harry. However, the potions master had seemed rather put out when neither of the supposed archenemies had started to fight. In fact, they almost seemed to be... complacent.

"Is there something bothering you?" Draco dared to ask.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I can't get this stupid potion to do what it's supposed to do."

Draco sighed. "Look, I've tried to be the understanding guy for long enough. What the hell is bothering you?" He had raised his voice slightly, and now people working nearby were shooting glances in their direction, obviously attempting to listento more of the conversation.

Harry clenched the knife in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "Nothing's wrong."

"Really? Then what's with the death grip on the knife?"

"You're annoying the hell out of me."

"Oh, really? How so?" Draco tilted his head to the side. It was funny how pissing Harry off seemed to open him up more than being empathetic.

"Because you just won't shut up or leave off!" Harry hissed, now drawing the attention of everyone in the classroom, including Snape.

"Mr. Potter, five points from Gryffindor for interr..."

"Sod off, you git," Harry snapped, glaring at Snape.

Snape rose out of his chair. "That'll be an additional ten points."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, planting his hands on the table and staring directly into Snape's eyes. "Fuck. me," he spat before throwing the knife hard enough onto the table to make it stand upright before storming out of the classroom.

"That'll be one hundred points gone if you walk out that door, Mr. Potter!" Snape bellowed.

"See if I give a shit!" Harry yelled back, not even bothering to look back as he slammed the door behind him, his footsteps echoing as he stomped away down the hall.

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"Malfoy, would you kindly explain what exactly you did to Harry?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with menace.

Hermione placed a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "There's probably a good explana..."

"Fuck off," Draco said scathingly, shoving the two astonished Gryffindors out of the way so he could go wallow in self-loathing in peace.

However, Ron got a hold of himself quickly and yanked on Draco's arm so he spun around painfully. "Don't you _dare _talk to Hermione that way, you prick," he growled.

"Why don't you two just shag already?" Draco asked boredly.

Willow, who was standing nearby, blushed. "Um... I... I should go study or... something..." she murmured before hurrying down the corridor.

"Willow!" Ron shouted. "Now look what you've done, you jackass," he spat, running after her. "Willow, wait up!"

Hermione simply scowled at Draco for a few seconds before saying, "I thought I would give you a chance. You know, benefit of the doubt and all that." She tossed her hair out of her eyes and made to leave. "Ron's right. You really are a prick," she said over her shoulder before turning around the corner.

Draco bit his lip and nodded in agreement. "I know." He looked up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. He'd driven Harry to the edge, and there was definitely no going back. Harry was pissed off, and now there was no way they'd be together after Hogwarts. Draco inhaled, his breath shaky. But he'd be damned if he dragged Harry down with him.

He straightened up, held his head high, and walked down the corridor, his face expressionless.

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A/N: I'm so sorry, readers. If it's any consolation, I cried. I'm still sniffling. Stupid, twisted, evil muse. On Valentine's Day, I'll be posting a happy Draco/Harry one-shot fic. I have a bunch more coming, too, so check out my author's page (if you want) to get more information. Don't forget to review, and please don't hate me for yet more angst. Next chapter will be in Harry's perspective. Sorry, I don't have much more to say because my spirit's been deflated by this stupid chapter.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: Sorry about the delay, readers! Anyway, I think most of you just might like this chapter. You'll have to read it to find out why. MAKE SURE YOU READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!

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Chapter Twenty Two

"Want I want from this world, what I want to resolve

Well, I want you to stay, so I want you away

I don't want to be bold

I don't want to be cold"

"Home," Breaking Benjamin

"What the hell was wrong with you today?" Hermione asked, storming into the common room.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Let me refresh your memory then," she said, sitting down on the couch next to him. "Talking back to Snape, storming out of the classroom?" She set her books down on the floor with a loud thud. "Ringing any bells?"

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," he apologized. "I just... I don't know. Stress?" He waved his hand dismissively. "I can't come up with a better excuse than that because there really isn't a good one to begin with. I was just a jackass today."

"Yeah, you know what? You really were," Hermione agreed. After a few minutes, she turned so she was facing Harry directly. "You want to talk about it?" she asked.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Not particularly."

Hermione nodded. "Just one thing, though," she said. "Is it Malfoy that's bothering you?"

Harry stared down at his shoes for a long time, not replying until Hermione was sure he wasn't going to answer at all. "Yes and no," he said finally, making Hermione jump a little.

Hermione's eyebrow raised questioningly. "You mind explaining?" She shrugged, a half-grin playing at her featuers. "Even geniuses like me don't understand everything."

Harry laughed, but the sound was slightly hollow, grating. "Yeah. That's sort of a good thing though. If you knew everything, people would just be afraid of you." He stretched his legs out and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Malfoy's bothering me, but he's not meaning to." He frowned slightly. "At least I don't think he is."

"Okay, now I'm just more confused."

"Huh. Me, too," Harry said ruefully. He glanced at Hermione out of the corners of his eyes. "Look, I don't think I should talk to you about... things... until I'm more sure about what's going on myself, okay?" At Hermione's nod, he blew his hair out of his eyes and stood up. "I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Okay." Hermione lifted her legs up onto the couch. "I'm gonna stay here and finish my homework." She smiled and waved him off.

Harry returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He trudged up to his dorm and flopped down on his bed, staring up at the canopy above him. After five minutes of gazing blankly at nothing in particular, Harry realized that he wasn't quite as tired as he had thought, so he stood up, went back down to the common room, then hurried out into the hall before Hermione could make fun of him for changing his mind. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with his time, but he was pretty sure he couldn't go see Malfoy after the way he had treated him.

Of course, Malfoy just had to bump into him at that moment. "Watch where you're... um, Potter," Malfoy said clumsily.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Up here? On the same floor as the Gryffindors? At night?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You and I both know there's only one reason that could possibly be."

"Actually, there're two," Harry informed him. Malfoy merely looked at him inquisitively. "You know. Torture, pranks, stuff like that," Harry explained. "The other one we can't discuss in public company."

"We're not exactly in public company right now, Potter," Malfoy pointed out.

"Yeah. But portraits talk. And people listen." Harry looked down at the floor awkwardly for a few seconds, then returned his gaze to Malfoy's. "So, which reason are you going with tonight?"

"I can't tell you right now since the information cannot be released upon the ears of public company," Malfoy replied. "Thus, I suggest we go... somewhere else," he finished, looking around. Then he hurried down the corridor, motioning for Harry to follow him, and they turned the corner and slipped into one of Filch's supply closets.

"Um... Malfoy..." Harry started, wanting to apologize for his earlier behavior.

"It's all right, Potter," Malfoy cut in. "You've been having a bad week. That's understandable. You're the fucking Golden Boy." At Harry's sigh, Malfoy smirked. "You really do hate it when I call you that, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry hissed, kicking off his pants.

"Good," Malfoy said simply, wriggling out of his tight sweater. "Someone's gotta get under your skin once in awhile."

Harry growled and lunged at Malfoy, kissing him deeply. Malfoy moaned and returned the kiss heatedly, lifting Harry up and pinning him against the wall. Harry wrapped his legs around Malfoy's waist and clamped one arm around his back, burying the other hand in his white-blonde hair. "You're..." Harry gasped, closing his eyes when Malfoy began to suck on his neck, "just... an annoying... little git."

"Who are you calling little?" Malfoy murmured, bucking against Harry and shoving him into the wall in the process.

Harry groaned. "Fuck." Malfoy nipped the hollow of his neck andHarry tightened the hold his legs had on Malfoy. "Fuck me."

Malfoy promptly pulled away from the wall and they both dropped to the floor. Malfoy dove back on top of Harry and pinned his arms over his head, kissing him roughly. "You gonna stay with me tonight?" he asked, rubbing against Harry slowly, creating friction. Harry's only response was to moan and jerk up against Malfoy eagerly. "Good," Malfoy whispered before sitting up and straddling Harry. "Time to pay up, Potter."

0000

"Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch," Harry gasped, sprawled out on top of Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded, panting. "I think _that _was some of the best sex we've ever had."

"It gets better and better," Harry agreed, breathing softly into the crook of Malfoy's neck. "You've ruined me for everyone else, Malfoy," he joked. At that, Malfoy stiffened, then gently pushed Harry off of him, sitting up. Harry just stared at Malfoy, a puzzled look on his face.

Malfoy sighed and shook his head. "No, you wouldn't get it, would you?" he muttered.

"What?" Harry asked, not quite hearing him.

"Nothing," Malfoy replied, rising to his feet slowly. "We might end up killing each other from the pain," he said, grinning.

Harry saw that the humor went no further than Malfoy's mouth itself, makinghim look strained, as if the smile were pasted on. "Malfoy," he said slowly, tentatively, "are you sure everything's..."

"Potter, we're fine, okay?" Malfoy interrupted him. "Now, I have finals to study for. You know, those annoying tests we take at the end of each term? I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, he left.

Harry stared at the door for several minutes, still sitting on the floor. "What the hell just happened?" he asked no one in particular. One moment, Malfoy was as hot as... well, he was _hot_. And then the next, he was giving Harry the cold shoulder. Not that Harry could blame him. He'd left Malfoy plenty of times. Too many, in fact. And Malfoy kept forgiving him. Maybe things were really drawing to a close after all. Which would make sense, since the end of the term was only a few weeks away. Harry hadn't even been thinking about the exams because he'd been too fixated on his own problems. Namely the problems that involved one Draco Malfoy. Who he was supposed to be forgetting about at the end of Hogwarts anyway. Go figure.

Harry stood up, sighing. Life was just too confusing to ponder at the moment. Besides, he had just had extremely intense sex, and now he just wanted to lie down and pray that he didn't feel like he'd been ripped apart, beaten with a sledgehammer, and squashed by a steamroller when he woke up.

Pulling on his clothes and wincing in pain every few seconds, Harry went over the events of the past month or so. Okay, it wasn't life that was confusing. It was Malfoy. More like his relationship with Malfoy... did they even _have _a relationship? Harry shook his head, then cringed when he threw himself into a temporary fit of dizziness. Turned out you shouldn't smack your head against a stone floor while in the throws of passion. The throws of passion? What was he, a bloody poet? A romance novelist? Ugh. He shuddered and picked up his school robes, exiting the closet cautiously.

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"Harry. Harry! _Harry_!"

"Whungh?" Harry groaned incoherently, swatting at Ron's arm. "Gerroff!"

"Class, mate. We've gotta get going or we're going to miss it." Ron sat down on Harry's bed. "You know, that hellhole where you sit on a bloody hard chair all day and listen to some adult go on and on about something you forget about by the time you go to sleep at night?" He yanked Harry's covers off. "Come on, let's go... oh, shit! What happened to you?" he exclaimed, standing up.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "What?" he asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at his back. He winced when the action shot a jolt of pain up his spine. "What's wrong?" he groaned, massaging his neck and shoulders.

"You've got some major bruises," Ron said, studying Harry intently. "On the front, too. And teeth marks... oh. That's right. You were gone last night."

Harry couldn't stand the tonelessness of Ron's voice. "Ron, I'm sorry. I really am. But if our friendship is going to survive... and I really want it to... then we're both going to have to be honest. Okay?"

"Fine. Harry, due to your fucking your boyfriend last night, you look like shit," Ron said bluntly, "and I really think you should forget about classes today because you'll definitely draw attention to yourself."

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Okay, that was cruel. Not honest."

"What did you expect, mate?" Ron asked, crossing his arms. "You're with Malfoy."

"Look, I know you hate him and all..."

"It's not that I hate him, Harry," Ron interrupted, holding up his hand for silence. He sat down on the bed next to Harry and sighed. "I could get over that... I could, so don't look at me like that. I could accept your relationship if you didn't feel that you had to hide it from everyone, and if it made you happy." He looked pointedly at Harry. "However, since I didn't find out about you and Malfoy until a bit ago... rude awakening, by the way... and you've been noticeably miserable for awhile, I'm having a bit of trouble."

"It's just com..."

"Don't you dare tell me it's complicated. Of course it's complicated. It's _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake!" Ron laughed humorlessly and ran his hands through his hair. "But if it's too complicated for you to work out, then..."

"Ron?" Harry said quietly, fingering his bedspread. "I'm sorry."

Ron shook his head. "Don't be. Seriously. The way I reacted... I know why you were afraid to tell me. I mean, I can say over and over that I'll always understand, and then I pull something like that..." he laughed softly. "I sent Dean through a window."

"Well, technically he went voluntarily," Harry pointed out, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah. But he sort of wasn't thinking clearly at the time, what with the panic and all." Ron rose to his feet. "How about we both just conveniently forget about classes today?" he suggested. At Harry's shocked look, he shrugged. "I figured we have some catching up to do. Wouldn't look good if your best friend didn't know a damned thing about your life, would it?"

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said sincerely.

"Hey. I'm telling you I'm your best friend, mate." Ron scratched the back of his neck. "Now, that may not mean I'll always agree with you. Bloody hell, we're bound to get in some major brawls in the future. But I'll always at least try to understand where you're coming from, okay? Just give me some time. Won't take me forever either, I promise."

Harry stood up. "Same here."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "And what have I done that you don't like? Besides my accidentally hitting you and trying to kill your boyfriend, that is." At Harry's wince, Ron nodded his head. "Not exactly a boyfriend?"

Harry shrugged. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Ron threw his arm across his best friend's shoulders. "We've got all day. How about we just make fun of Lavender and her posse for an hour or so? We can sneak into the girls' dorm and go through their stuff..."

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"Oh, shit... Harry...?" Ron turned to Harry, an apologetic look on his face.

"Go talk to her," Harry ordered, pointing at Willow. "No better time than the present. Besides, she looks like she wants you to."

Ron risked a glance at his girlfriend. "You think? 'Cause what Malfoy said was pretty cruel..."

"Ron," Harry said calmly, "_Malfoy _said it."

Ron nodded. "Right. See you... er... after dinner?"

Harry laughed. "If then. Now, go get your girl." When Ron hurried off to talk to Willow, Harry shook his head and sat down in a nearby chair. He had been spending a lot more time in the library in the past month than he had in his entire stay at Hogwarts. He grinned, opening the book he'd need for his Potions homework. If Snape would even accept it after what he had done. Harry shrugged and began to read the book, having to go back over the information presented in it several times, due to lack of focus.

Ron had brought up an interesting point that morning; if things were so complicated with Malfoy, then why was he still... er... with him...? Harry wasn't sure if he could really say he was with Malfoy. Because they weren't a couple or anything. They just shagged. A lot. It was meaningless. Right?

Then Harry knew he was not going to be able to get any homework done whatsoever, so he slammed the book shut and let it drop down onto the table noisily, drawing many angry glares and a few "shushes." He just rolled his eyes and sulked in his chair. When the hell had everything between him and Malfoy become so... multi-dimensional? Before the deal, they had just fought. And quarreled. And fought some more. There'd been no connections. They hadn't talked. They'd just bickered. And they'd just hit each other. The sex was definitely a new aspect of their relationship as well.

Harry sighed in frustration and rose to his feet, almost tipping the chair over as he did so. He grabbed all of the books he'd retrieved from the libary's shelves, then set about returning them. He had just reached a bookcase near the back, more secluded part of library, when a finger tapped his shoulder. "Huh?" he asked, whirling around.

"What's bothering you?" Malfoy asked.

"What's it to you?" Harry retorted before he could stop himself. He shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. I don't want to drag anybody else into this pit of insanity with me."

"What, the Golden Boy is going insane? Should we alert the presses?" Malfoy asked, feigning alarm. When Harry tried to swipe at him, Malfoy ducked away. "Not that that would affect your chances against Voldemort or anything," he continued, grinning as he dodged another of Harry's attacks. "He's loopy, too."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said, no real malice in his tone. "What are you doing back here, anyway?"

"You know, I could give a sarcastic reply," Malfoy said, leaning forward, "but I figure you've got enough on your plate right now. So," he spread his arms dramatically, "I'm back here because I need to find a book for my Potions homework."

"This one?" Harry asked, holding up the book he'd been trying to read earlier.

"Yep," Malfoy replied. "You done with it?"

"Nope. But I'm not going to be using it anytime soon, either." At Malfoy's look, he waved the book around. "Can't understand a damned thing in it."

Malfoy shook his head. "Potter, you'd better hope that Voldemort doesn't find out how terrible you are at Potions or he'll have a foolproof plan for world domination for sure."

Harry raised an eyebrow and held out the book for Malfoy to take. "Well, as long as you keep your mouth shut..." he said, a half-grin twisting his face.

Malfoy took the book from Harry. "Hm. I don't know..." he murmured, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes as if he were in deep thought. "I just might need a bit of pursuading..."

Harry groaned. "There's no way I'm going to be able to have sex... now. I mean, I was bruised so badly this morning that Ron..." he shook his head ruefully.

"Ron what?" Malfoy asked, tension evident in his tone.

"Oh, he just got concerned is all."

"Concerned as in, I'd better hide until school's over?" Malfoy asked, folding his arms against his chest. "Because I recall the last time..."

"He walked in on us having sex, and we hadn't even so much as warned him prior to the event," Harry said. "He won't kill you. Promise."

"So he'll just seriously maim me, then?" Malfoy asked. He snorted. "There's a relief."

"Malfoy," Harry said softly, "Ron said he's trying to understand." When Malfoy opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, Harry cut him off. "He says that as long as I'm getting along okay, he accepts what we are."

There were several long seconds of silence, then Malfoy asked, "What are we, exactly?"

Harry exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "I honestly have no idea." He looked up. "Do you?"

Malfoy was suddenly intent on the title of the book in his hand. "Potter... we're not going to see each other at the end of the term, right?"

"Um..." Harry blinked a few times. "I guess so...?"

"Right. It was silly of me to ask. Of course we won't be seeing each other anymore." Malfoy was coming dangerously close to babbling. "It's absurd."

Harry felt his hackles rise slightly. Why would that statement bother him? "How is it absurd?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Malfoy just looked at him, wide-eyed, for a moment. "I... isn't it?"

Harry caught himself. Right, scare him away. Brilliant. "You're right. Stupid to think of anything past this." Wait, was that hurt that just flashed through Malfoy's eyes? "I mean, what with your parents, and Voldemort, and the press..." Harry trailed off, knowing those reasons were extremely lame. "Er... well, I'd better let you work on that assignment."

"Right. Lots to do with... um... this thing."

They stood awkwardly for a bit, then they both whirled around and walked away from each other, eyes downcast.

Harry cast a timid glance over his shoulder. Was it really all that ridiculous? Probably. But what they had now... it really wasn't all that bad. At least... he didn't think so. Did Malfoy? Harry's head was screaming. If only he had the ability to read minds... but then things wouldn't be as fun anymore. Fun. Ha, bloody, ha.

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"Harry?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry opened the bedcurtains, beckoning for Ron to join him. "How'd things go with Willow?" he asked.

Ron grinned. "We're okay." He shook his head in bemusement. "Can you believe that she actually thought I was consideringgetting back togetherwith Hermione?"

Harry laughed. "Hermione wouldn't have wanted you anyway." At Ron's indignant look, Harry hastily added, "Because she's with Dean now."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Since when is she with Dean?"

"Oops. Um... since a little while ago," Harry replied. "Happened very recently though, honestly."

Ron sighed. "I've been pretty oblivious lately, haven't I?"

"It's okay, Ron. Everybody's had their own problems." Harry leaned back against the headboard.

"Yeah. And how are those working outfor you?" Ron asked.

"Ron... do you honestly not have a problem with...?"

"It's not something I expected to see ever," Ron admitted, "but if you want it, then I want you to have it."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Ron Weasley?" Harry joked. Then he took on a more serious tone. "You've made it clear over the past seven years that you hate Malfoy."

"To be honest, I still do," Ron said, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck. "But, see, you seem to see something in him, so I guess, as your best friend, I should at least attempt to see it, too." He punched Harry's shoulder lightly. "Don't think this means I'll be nice to him. I just won't try to kill him anymore."

Harry nodded. "I can live with that."

"But something's still wrong, right?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, something's still wrong."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Well, I sort of told Hermione that I wasn't going to talk to anyone about my problems until I had them sorted out myself."

Ron laughed softly. "You're supposed to talk to people so they can help you sort out your problems. If you talk to them afterward, it's sort of like leaving them in the dark until you can slap 'em in the face with something and they can't do anything about it except complain."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Harry half-grinned. "Okay, well, it _is _about..."

Ron blew his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. I'll just resort to ripping up the sheets, okay?"

"Um. Right." Harry looked around the room before letting his eyes rest on his shoes. "For the past couple of weeks I've been giving Malfoy some serious hell," he said honestly. "And while I've been making things so hard for him... he's seemed to have been genuinely... concerned about me." He shook his head. "I mean, it was like he was actually worried about what I was going through... and he really did seem interested about what we were going to do about... us... after Hogwarts is over and done with."

"You mean you haven't talked about it yet?" Ron asked.

"Well, our relationship isn't exactly... conventional," Harry replied. "And if you say anything about gay relationships not being conventional in the first place, I swear I'll hex you."

"I wasn't going to say a thing," Ron retorted. "I'm just curious about what you mean by your relationship not being 'exactly conventional.'"

"You really want to know?" When Ron nodded, Harry sighed. "Remember the winter formal? How I sort of disappeared after awhile? Well, Malfoy found me." He ran a hand through his hair shakily. "He proposed a sort of... deal... in which we have meaningless sex whenever we need to relieve... er... tension."

"Uh," was all Ron said.

Harry continued nervously. "I turned him down at first. Emphatically, actually. But then, that night while I was in bed, I got to thinking about the opportunity to just... I don't know... forget about things for awhile. And the idea appealed to me." At Ron's expression, Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know, not the best grounds for a lasting relationship. But... it's like something's been... oh, I don't know... growing... between us. Ron, even though you're my best friend, I haven't been able to talk to you about some things."

"But you've been able to talk to Malfoy about them," Ron said slowly.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's like... he's the complete opposite of everything about me, but at the same time... we're exactly the same."

"That's called a soul mate, Harry," Ron said quietly. At Harry's shocked expression, Ron chuckled softly. "It's what I feel with Willow." He smiled a little sadly and shook his head at Harry bemusedly. "Why did you have to go and find out that your soul mate was _Malfoy_?" Harry looked guilty until Ron laughed and shoved him off the bed. Then he just looked baffled. "Go talk to him, Harry," Ron ordered, pointing at the door. "You're miserable, and I won't let you back into the dorm until you've at least told Malfoy everything you've told me." When Harry didn't move, Ron lifted him up off the floor by the arms and shoved him out of the dorm. "Good luck," he said before he closed the door in Harry's face.

"Um... thanks...?" Harry said before descending the steps and making his way out to the corridor, moving mechanically. What had just happened?

0000

Harry was still confused when he reached out and knocked on the portrait that guarded the entrance to Slytherin. When Pansy opened it, he couldn't quite form anything coherent, so Pansy just pointed in the general direction of what must have been Malfoy's dorm. Harry nodded in thanks, then hurried off to find Malfoy.

When Harry reached the door to Malfoy's dorm, he hesitated. But then the door opened anyway. "Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyebrow raised.

"Er... hey," Harry said stupidly. "How are you?"

Malfoy's brows furrowed together, then he opened the door further and stepped aside so Harry could enter. "Come in," he said, waving his arm.

Harry stepped inside the dorm and looked around. It looked almost exactly the same, except the personal belongings were obviously different, and the bedding was green instead of red. And the room was darker. And definitely colder.

Suddenly, Harry was enveloped in a warm comforter. He looked at Malfoy in surprise, but the blonde just rolled his eyes. "Come on, like I haven't been with you long enough to know you're extremely sensitive to the cold?" He led Harry to a bed that probably belonged to him and they both sat down on it. "So... what do you want?" Malfoy asked. After a few seconds, he laughed. "Of course. Silly of me."

But when he began to remove his shirt, Harry reached out and stopped him, shaking his head. Malfoy looked at him questioningly, and Harry cleared his throat nervously. "I came down here to sort of... talk to you."

"Sort of?" Malfoy asked. Harry just looked down and bit his lip. Malfoy began to rub Harry's back slowly. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Um... actually, now that I'm here, I'm notreally sure," Harry replied.

"Yeah, well, take your time. Don't have anything else to do except study," Malfoy said tiredly, "and I really don't feel like doing that right now, anyway."

"Right." Harry and Malfoy sat in silence for a few more minutes before Harry finally spoke up. "Ron said something interesting today."

"The Weasel?" Malfoy asked, snorting. "Huh. How shocking."

Harry just rolled his eyes. "He said he could live with the whole you and me thing."

"You and me thing?"

"Yeah, this deal and stuff." Harry still didn't look up, studying his hands intently.

"Right. And?"

"And... um... he said something else, too..." Harry faltered, not wanting to face humiliation.

"Yeah?" Malfoy prompted, edging a little closer to Harry.

"Yeah... he said that..." Harry cut himself off abruptly. "Actually, it was probably just stupid, you know?" When Malfoy looked like he wanted to press the issue, Harry interrupted him quickly, talking fast so he wouldn't lose his nerve. "What's going to happen after Hogwarts? 'Cause I know your family's pretty much saved a spot for you among the Death Eaters, but that doesn't mean you have to _take _it... er... not that I'm telling you not to, of course..."

"What are you going on about, Potter?" Malfoy asked in his usual drawl. Except it wasn't his usual drawl because his voice was soft, as if he were slightly afraid of the answer, but also eager to hear it.

"Er... that is... we're not going to see each other anymore when school's over, right? Because Ron said..."

"Forget what Weasley said," Malfoy said impatiently, turning so he was facing Harry directly. "I want to hear what _you _have to say about it."

"Well, I... I thought that... um..." Harry began to pick at the comforter. "I... oh, God, I can't do this," he said, making to stand up.

Malfoy caught his wrist, keeping him in place. "No," he commanded. "You've been running forever, Potter," he said. "It's time to stop."

"Running?" Harry asked incredulously. "Running? I've been standing up to the fucking Dark Lord since I was ten years old!"

"Yes. Right. You're the Golden Boy. You're courageous. You're brave. According to the rest of the wizarding world, you aren't afraid of a damned thing," Malfoy said in a calm monotone. Then he grasped Harry's other wrist and leaned in close, his eyes blazing. And then he spoke again, continuing to keep his voice soft, but with a quiet intensity burning beneath the low tones. "So why are you afraid to show the world who you really are? Why do you bend over backwards to help everyone you know and then some, but at the end of the day you don't even know where to begin when it comes to saving yourself? Why are you afraid to let yourself have something you want? Why won't you let someone save _you _for once?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "Why won't you let me reach you? I know I touch you somehow. I know that I'm the only one that can reach you..." he released one of Harry's wrists so he could cup his cheek, then brushed his lips against his, "this way. Get under your skin. Make you want. Make you take. Make you..." he moved his hand from Harry's cheek to slide up under his T-shirt, "feel."

Harry shivered and leaned into the light touch, even as he pulled away. "Stop," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"No," Malfoy said simply. "You want to know why? Because, deep down in that place you try to keep buried and hidden away, you _want _me to keep touching you like this. And I'm not just talking about my hand on you." Malfoy moved so he was partially straddling Harry. "You need me to antagonize you everyday. You need me to get under your skin and make you feel alive. Because that's just it. You feel _dead _without me, Harry Potter, and don't you _dare _try to deny it."

Harry stared into Malfoy's grey eyes, which were somehow managing to be fiery and icy at the same time. "I... I..." he gulped. "I don't want to," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss Malfoy gently. "Jesus Christ, I don't want to."

Malfoy pulled away, his expression slightly shocked. "You... don't?"

Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, then opened them and slowly shook his head, keeping eye contact with Malfoy as he did so. "That's actually why I came here tonight," he said. "I've been a real bastard these past few weeks because I didn't want to get close. I didn't want it to hurt when we end the deal." He swallowed. "But I know that, right now, sitting here with you on this bed, that if we still end whatever the hell we have at the end of this term, I'm going to hurt more than I've ever hurt before." He glared at Malfoy. "And don't you _dare _treat me like scum right now, Draco Malfoy, or I swear to _God _I'll..."

Malfoy interrupted Harry with a kiss. He pulled away slowly, brushing a lock of Harry's hair out of his green eyes. "I know how you feel."

"Seriously?" Harry asked, his voice almost imperceptible.

Malfoy chuckled softly. "I came to terms with my feelings a little while ago. I just wasn't sure whether or not you felt the same way."

Harry took another shaky breath and placed his hands on Malfoy's shoulders. "You know that, deep down, I've known it for awhile, too," he said quietly. "I just haven't been able to admit it because, like you said, I can't seem to let myself have anything I really want." He lowered his hands and encircled Malfoy's waist with his arms. "But... I... I want you..." he said softly but decisively. "I'm just wondering if you're going to let me have you."

Malfoy smirked. "A Malfoy comes at a high price, you know," he warned.

"Stop with the family crap," Harry said. "It's no fair."

"You aren't brooding, are you?" Malfoy asked, running his index finger along Harry's eyebrows.

Harry shuddered. "No. Just saying I can't say some of my little quirks are hereditary."

"They're just you, Harry."

"Say that again," Harry demanded.

"Say what?" Malfoy asked, confused.

"My name."

Malfoy grinned. "Harry," he whispered, his lips close to Harry's ear. "Harry?"

"Draco?" Harry murmured, nuzzling Malfoy's neck.

Draco shivered. "You make my name sound sexy."

"Draco," Harry said, nipping at the hollow of Draco's throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's... wait. Stop for a second." Draco pulled away with a considerable amount of effort. "So, now that we've established how we feel, what's going to happen?"

"Well," Harry said, pushing against Draco, "first, we're going to have sex. Then we're going to have to take those stupid finals." He pressed Draco back until he was leaning against the pillows, then began unbuttoning his shirt. "And, finally, we're going to take a good look at everyone who will disapprove of our being together and tell them to go fuck themselves."

Draco reached up and began to undo Harry's jeans. "That sounds like a good plan," he said huskily. "So... this deal...?"

"Has been extended."

"Now, there is the question of how long this extension will be," Draco said matter-of-factly, tugging down on Harry's pants and boxers. "And I move for its being indefinite."

"And I second that motion," Harry replied before kissing Draco deeply.

0000

A/N: Yeah. That's the end of this chapter. I just... I wasn't quite ready to extend the fluff yet. Don't worry; that's coming. The next chapter is the final part of this story, and it will be in Draco's perspective. Okay, now, here's why I wanted you to read this author's note. I know I mentioned an epilogue, and I'm going to give you one. But see... I didn't want to limit myself to one chapter, so I decided to make the epilogue a series of one-shots. Each fic will take place on a holiday (the first one will be on New Year's Eve/Day, the second will be on Valentine's Day, third is St. Patrick's Day, etc.). So, don't worry. I have more Draco/Harry fics in the works! However, I am working on two different Angel/Spike (Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel fandoms) fics, and I'm now a beta reader (love you, mana!), which is why this chapter was so long in coming. Well, there were other contributing factors, too. Now I must go, because my best friend is here and we're going to go out and get icecream and not come back home until sun-up. I love my life.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

A/N: Hey, everyone! First of all, THE OUT ALL NIGHT FOR ICECREAM THING WAS A BLAST! WE GOT A TICKET FOR PARKING FOR EIGHT HOURS IN A ONE HOUR PARKING ZONE! WE'RE SO SCREWED! LIFE IS GREAT! MY BEST FRIEND IS AWESOME! I LOVE SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, EVEN THOUGH I RARELY GO THERE AND I ALMOST DIED GETTING ICECREAM AND "BOY SCOUTING" T-SHIRTS! Secondly, I decided that, since I received so many favorable reviews (I'd like to give a special thanks to **Lyth Taeraneth **and **Anaita **for remaining loyal and supportive of this fic since day one... and for giving me lots of feedback and inspiration. Also, thank you, **corey**, simply because I've never really been called "adorable" before), I'll get this posted _much _sooner than the previous chapter (it _did _seem to take forever, didn't it? I got smacked with a serious case of writer's block. I'm serious. I think my muse got chained to down or something. Anyway, here's chapter twenty three, which happens to be the SECOND TO THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS FIC. But DON'T WORRY, because it _will _be continued through a series of one-shots. And they'll all involve special events/holidays. The first one-shot will be titled "Get Dressed Before You Kill Ron," and it will involve "the gang" getting drunk on New Year's Eve.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to "Turn It Up" belong exclusively to The Alan Parsons Project.

Sidenote: If you've never heard Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness," I suggest you somehow manage to do so. It's a great song to dance to. By the way, Puddle Of Mudd's "She Hates Me" is also a great song, but you can't sing it in the presence of three year olds at ten o'clock at night. (especially when they're with their mothers. What I want to know is _why _women would let their three year old girl stay up that late). My best friend and I found this out on our icecream night. Oh, and I haven't been able to get Unwritten Law's "Save Me" out of my head, and my best friend and I danced to Chevelle's "The Clincher" at a club in Seattle on that icecream night. And right now I'm saving up my spare cash to get Muse's "Absolution" (I love their newest single, "Hysteria"). I'll bet you can tell by now that I really don't like music, particularly rock.

0000

Chapter Twenty Three

"Take a photograph; it'll be the last

Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here

I don't have a past, I just have a chance"

"Rain," Breaking Benjamin

Draco sighed in relief as he left the classroom, happy to be finished with the very last final he would ever have to take. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. Harry was still sitting in front of his cauldron, his eyebrows scrunched together in a combination of concentration and irritation; concentration because his tongue was sticking out slightly, and irritation because he kept sending murderous glances in Snape's direction.

Draco smirked and leaned against the doorway, folding his arms against his chest. After a few more minutes, Harry added the final ingredient of the potion, and Snape let him leave, albeit grudgingly. One would have thought that Snape would have been grateful to send Harry as far away from Hogwarts as possible, not consider giving him the failing marks that would keep him around for another year or so.

Straightening, Draco waited for Harry to approach him. When Harrystopped athis side, Draco reached out and traced Harry's eyebrows with his index finger. "You were looking a little tense, love," he murmured teasingly, his lips tilting up in a small smile when Harry shivered.

"One professor I will _not _regret leaving behind is _him_," Harry stated bitterly, jerking his head toward Snape, who was currently sneering at Ron's attempt to brew the potion that the sour professor had chosen for the final exam. "Git."

"Just think," Draco said, slowly looping his arm around Harry's waist. "It was our last exam."

And then Harry smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah," he said. "And might I just say that it's about bloody time, too."

Draco laughed softly. "Want to go celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised. Draco nodded, reaching out to cup Harry's... er... jeans. "Oh," Harry said, gulping and looking around. "You mean _celebrate_." He grasped Draco's wrist and began to lead him to the Slytherin common room at a brisk pace.

"What's your hurry?" Draco asked, eyeing the view that Harry made from behind appreciatively.

"Got to work off some of that tension," Harry muttered.

0000

"Harry?" Draco asked softly, stroking Harry's jaw with his index finger.

"Hm?" Harry said, his eyes still closed.

"Um... what are we going to do after school's over?"

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. "I thought we established what we were going to do."

"Well, yeah, I know we're not going to leave each other or anything like that," Draco said uncomfortably, sitting up as well. "What I mean is... where are we going to live? Are you going to get a job? You know, stuff like that."

"Oh. I haven't really thought about that, to tell you the truth," Harry replied honestly. "I've been more or less fixated on the thought of you and me staying together or saying goodbye."

Draco pulled Harry closer to him and kissed his temple. "Thanks," he said. "Me, too, actually. And that's why the thought is bothering me now."

Harry laughed. "You always going to brood this much after sex?"

Draco let a half-smile creep across his features before he was serious again. "Seriously, Harry. We have to make plans."

"Make plans. That makes everything sound so... definite." Harry leaned back against the headboard of Draco's bed. "Okay, I take it we're _not _going to be returning to Malfoy Manor...?" Draco shook his head decisively. "Good," Harry said. "I don't think I'd really feel comfortable living with a man who has blatantly expressed his desire to kill me. Repeatedly." He closed his eyes and frowned slightly. "And I was sort of hoping to live in a place that's... quiet. You know, to avoid reporters and stuff?"

"I just want to get away from people, period," Draco said. "Quiet is nice."

"You're not going to turn into a hermit, are you?" Harry asked.

"To be a hermit, you have to be completely alone," Draco said. "I'll have you with me. But don't worry. I just don't want to put up with everyone suspecting me of being a spy for Voldemort or something. You know, condemning me for the crimes I haven't committed yet?"

"Yeah. It sucks being popular, doesn't it?"

"I'm not popular," Draco protested.

"Draco, your father is a well known Death Eater, your family has pretty much always been notorious, and you're not exactly one to stand in the background or hide in a corner when you're in public places."

"Which also means all of the press and recognition I _do _happen to get tells everyone that I'm a bad person. My name sort of happens to pop up after front page bold lettering that says something along the lines of 'Massacre in the Ministry,' or 'Dark Lord Rises Again and is Out for Blood.' Of course, they never say I was actually part of the massacre. They just say my father was, and that automatically makes me a murderer."

Harry stroked Draco's hair soothingly. "So we'll live somewhere that's less... crowded."

"Harry, we're never going to completely escape the press or anything like that," Draco warned.

"I know. I'm pretty much used to it now, though." Harry shrugged. "The only time I get really bothered is when I get absolutely swarmed. I'm hoping to avoid that by living somewhere that's not quite so... cityish."

"What, like the country?" Draco asked, grinning at the thought.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of the suburbs. You know, where I can step outside and breathe in fresh air instead of a bunch of smog, but I can still talk to the neighbors without having to walk a few miles."

"Suburbs it is, then," Draco agreed, repressing another smile.

"Yeah. Um... Draco...?" Harry trailed off, picking at the bedspread.

"Hm?" Draco leaned forward a bit in order to see Harry's expression better.

"About... about people knowing us and stuff..." Harry finally looked up at Draco. "I was thinking we should get out of England."

Draco's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Only, that is, if you want to. I mean..."

Draco kissed Harry softly. "It's fine. So, what are we talking about? Ireland? Scotland? Spain?"

"How about the United States?" Harry suggested abruptly.

Draco just stared at Harry for awhile. "Er... don't take this the wrong way or anything because I'm not rejecting the idea, but... why?"

Harry exhaled. "Well... people won't really know us as well there, you know? Plus, it'll be a new experience. You want to start your life over, and so do I. What better way than to go somewhere that we haven't been before? It would really be a fresh start." He began to speak a bit faster. "Also, Ron is going there because he wants to stay with Willow, and she wants to go to college in Los Angeles. And Hermione and Dean are going with them because Hermione doesn't want to be anywhere near England after whatever is going to happen with Voldemort is over and done with. And Seamus is considering making the trip, too, because Dean's his best friend, and..."

Draco kissed Harry again, shutting him up. "Okay. We'll go to... America." Oddly enough, the idea of traveling overseas to a new life appealed to Draco. It really was a fresh start. "So, right after school's over?"

Harry stiffened. "Actually, no. You know how I said that Hermione doesn't want to be around here _after _this whole thing with Voldemort is over?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. After everything is said and done with, we'll go." He regarded Harry for a second. "Are you going to get a job?"

"Er... um... I'm not entirely sure," Harry replied. "I was thinking about... well..."

"Auror?" Draco said tonelessly.

"...No," Harry said after a moment's hesitation. "I was considering trying to be a caterer or something."

Draco grinned. "You can cook? You're terrible at brewing potions."

"Potions are a completely different matter," Harry protested. "They are! Potions don't taste good, and there's no Snape to breathe down your neck and bark at you if you try to experiment a little when you're cooking."

Draco laughed. "So, caterer, then. I don't have to work, do I?"

"Not if you don't want to. I mean, it's not like you have to or anything."

"Yeah, but what if I want to?"

"Then work," Harry said simply.

"Well, see, that's the thing. I have absolutely no idea what I can do."

"Well, you've got talents. And you're not going to get into that prostitution thing, let me tell you," Harry joked. "But seriously, what do you like to do?"

"What do I like to do?" Draco asked, a little surprised. "Um... I'm going to have to think about all of that for awhile."

Harry grinned. "It's an adjustment."

"I'll say." Draco pressed his forehead against Harry's. "I'm going to be with you."

"Yeah." Harry nuzzled Draco. "Looking forward to it?"

"Hell, yes."

"We're going to fight like harpies," Harry warned.

"No kidding." Draco kissed the tip of Harry's nose. "Let's just not kill each other, okay?"

"Deal."

"And if we have to resort to killing other people, and if it just happens to be Weasley that I choose to unleash my anger on, then so be it."

"Draco..."

"I know, I know. I was just kidding." A few seconds, then, "But what if accidents were to happen...?"

0000

A/N: THIS ISN'T THE END OF THE CHAPTER! I just wanted to let you know that I'm skipping ahead three years to when Harry, Draco, Ron, Willow, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus are all twenty years old. To fill you in: all of wizarding Europe knows about Harry and Draco's relationship and they have to go through hell to avoid the press (Harry and Draco, that is. Not everyone else), Ron and Willow are still together, as are Hermione and Dean, and Seamus is still an irrepressibleflirt. Voldemort and his Death Eaters have been stamped out, but Dumbledore died in the process. I'm sorry. It's just the way things go (plus, I'm sort of angry with Dumbledore right now for being a chicken and not telling Harry about the stupid Prophecy and stuff. Okay, just let me grumble for a few seconds now...). Plus, Pansy and Millicent moved over there right after the war was finished for the same reasons that Draco wants to leave Europe (undeserved bad reputations), that way Draco will have friends there, too. Anyway, "the gang" is now preparing to leave for America, which is where my series of one-shots will be taking place.

0000

"Yeah, I think we're going to need Willow and Hermione," Ron said, eyeing the uneven piles of junk that had been stacked up in the three cars they would be driving to the airport; they couldn't legally Apparate from country to country until they were twenty-one, so they had to catch a plane to get overseas.

Harry was also staring at the precariously arranged piles. "Because there's no way those are not going to come crashing down around us."

"What's going to come crashing down around us?" Seamus asked, approaching the group of perplexed young men. The Irishman had managed to avoid doing any real work because he had mysteriously twisted his ankle a few seconds before everyone was about to set everything up. And now, just as mysteriously, his ankle seemed perfectly healed as he leaped across the last patch of Hermione's front lawn and landed on the driveway between Harry and Dean.

"The boxes," Draco said, frowning. "Remind me why we don't just magick them to stay put?"

"Because we're in a muggle neighborhood," Ron hissed. "And keep your voice _down _when you talk about stuff like that!"

"Why?" Draco asked. "It's who I am. Harry, your best friend doesn't want me to express myself."

Harry held up his hands defensively, backing away. "Oh, no, you two are _not _dragging me into the middle of another one of your insane fights." When Ron and Draco scowled at each other, Harry gulped and looked up and down the stretch of road for the Grangers' car, praying Willow and Hermione would come back soon.

"What the bloody hell is taking them so long?" Dean muttered. Apparently, Harry wasn't the only one who was a little nervous.

"Oh, come on," Seamus whispered, studying Ron and Draco intently. "You can so tell that they don't really hate each other." Dean and Harry just looked at Seamus as if he were crazy, and Draco and Ron both shouted an indignant "hey!" at the same time.

"Of course I hate Weasley. He's disgusting," Draco declared, eyeing Ron with contempt, "and poor."

"At least I have _friends_, you conceited jackass," Ron growled, clenching his fists.

"Yeah, well, they're stupid," Draco spat.

"You just called your boyfriend stupid," Seamus pointed out.

"Well, that wouldn't really make things any different," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Draco. "He says stuff like that all the time." Then he frowned. "Guess I really _am _stupid, then, since I let him insult me so much."

"Oh, and like you don't give as good as you get," Draco snorted. "It's a good thing we can never have kids or they'd be permanently scarred, listening to some of the things you say."

"You're never going to adopt kids?" Seamus asked, looking back and forth between Harry and Draco several times before sighing. "Good. Don't think I could handle 'em. They'd be way too hyper and cause trouble, jumping all over people and stuff." Everyone just stared at Seamus, eyebrows raised. "What?" he asked, confused.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Willow pulled up into the driveway. "Okay, we've got snacks," Hermione said, shoving a grocery bag full of junk food into Dean's arms. "You happy now?"

"Yeah. Thanks, hon," Dean said, kissing Hermione's cheek.

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling. "Just be happy that I like you," she said, smacking his arm lightly. "For some reason." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

"Ugh. Heteros," Draco complained, mock-gagging.

"Effin' disgusting," Seamus agreed, coughing and beating his chest. Harry sighed, shaking his head, and pried the grocery bag from between Hermione and Dean, then walked over to the nearest car, distributing an evenamount of snacks to each vehicle.

"What's with the leaning towers of chaos?" Willow asked, indicating the piles inside the cars.

"We were trying to get everything ready," Harry replied. He waved the now empty grocery bag at Hermione. "Where do you want me to put this?" he asked. Hermione merely pointed at a recycle bin near the front porch, not breaking her lip lock with Dean.

"Well, we move an inch and everything will come falling down on our heads," Willow stated. "We've got to restack everything. And we've only got an hour before we absolutely have to be on our way to the airport."

"Don't see why we can't just Apparate," Draco said, opening a car door to begin unloading the many suitcases that were crowding the seats.

"Because it's illegal," Hermione replied, finally pulling away from Dean.

"So?" Draco retorted. Hermione just stuck her tongue out at him and set to work getting everything out of the cars.

"How are we going to get all of this crap overseas, anyway?" Draco went on, fixated on the idea of using more magical means to travel.

"The cargo hold," Willow said, grunting as she set a particularly heavy trunk on the ground. "What do you have in here, anyway?" she asked, frowning at Draco.

"You don't want to know, baby," Draco said, winking.

Willow looked at Harry, who shook his head. "You really don't," Harry said. "Now, Will, tell us exactly how we're going to systematically set up all of this junk so it doesn't kill us while we're driving to the airport."

0000

"What the hell is wrong with your radio, Weasley?" Draco groaned, still attempting to find a decent station. "Oh, wait, I just answered my question," he deadpanned. "It's _your _car."

Ron swatted at Draco's head, missing, of course. "Back off, you git," he snapped. "My car's just fine."

"So, why're we losin' Will and Hermione, then?" Draco retorted, resuming his search for "actual music."

"Because you won't quit bloody distracting me!" Ron barked. "Sit down, damnit!"

Draco was about to protest when Harry's hand clamped onto his shoulder and yanked him back onto the back seat. "Be quiet," Harry hissed. "I'd like to actually _make _it to America, you know?"

Draco crossed his arms and sulked in his seat, grumbling under his breath. Harry just smirked.

Draco noticed Harry's expression and scowled. "Don't think I'm doing this just because you told me to," he said. "I just don't want the Weasel to get us killed on the way to the airport."

"I know," Harry said, looking out the window at the rapidly passing scenery.

"Seriously. I'm my own man," Draco insisted. He glared murderously at the back of Ron's head when the redhead snorted loudly. He didn't say anything though, not wanting to drive Harry insane by fighting yet again. Everyone was already nervous enough about the prospect of going somewhere completely new and starting all over again. Also, they were finally past the harder part of their post war jitters. Draco was still slightly amazed that they'd all made it through the ordeal alive. That is, everyone that had planned to make the journey to the United States before the final battle took place. But Draco had still spent months making sure Harry ate, slept, showered, and so on afterward, because Harry had felt extremely guilty about the deaths of many of the witches and wizards who had fought alongside him, including Dumbledore. Draco couldn't really say he was altogether sad about the old headmaster's death. But he had hated seeing Harry depressed, and that was enough to make him truly miserable as well. Whatever. They were on their way to a new life, and they were leaving the bulk of the drama here in Europe.

0000

After roughly a half an hour of alternating static and bland, toneless talk shows, Harry finally leaned forward over the passenger's seat and turned the dial to the radio back and forth, searching for a station that actually played music. After several gospel and two country stations, Harry finally hit one that was about halfway through playing Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness."

"Damnit!" Draco yelled, smacking the seat with his fist. "You see, Weasley? If you had just shut up and let me search for a damned station..."

"Shut up and listen to the rest of the song, Draco," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Remind me to bring plenty of Ibuprofen with me on car trips, plane rides, and so on from here on out."

"Got a headache, love?" Draco asked.

"No. I've got a migraine." Harry leaned let his head fall back on the seat behind him. "And there _is _a difference."

Draco grinned and reached out to wrap his arm around Harry, drawing him closer so that Harry's head rested on his shoulder. "Look what you did to Harry, Weasley," he said, his grin widening when Harry merely slumped in resignation.

0000

Draco, Harry, and Ron were far more relaxed about twenty minutes later after singing along at the top of their lungs to Collective Soul's "Counting The Days," and Puddle Of Mudd's "She Hates Me." Ron and Draco were even talking amicably about Quidditch, which always seemed to be a safe topic for them... unless they started discussing actual teams. Then things got a little... intense. But they were avoiding the topic of which Quidditch team was really the best while they were in the car. Partly because they were apprehensive about going to America, and partly because Harry probably would have hexed them.

"Hey, Hermione's pulling over," Harry said.

"Wonder why," Ron muttered, following suit. "You don't think something happened to the car, do you?" He pulled up behind Hermione, and a few seconds later, Dean parked behind Ron's car. "What's going on?" Ron asked, sticking his head out the window as Willow got out of the car and walked toward them.

"Hermione wants to know if you have the animal cookies," Willow said, giggling.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering, "Bloody women."

Harry smacked Draco's head sharply. "Yeah. Here," he said, handing Willow the box of cookies.

"Now, let's get moving before we end up stuck in major traffic," Ron said impatiently.

"See you at the airport," Willow said, kissing Ron's forehead before getting back into Hermione's car. A few seconds later, Hermione started the engine again and returned to the road.

"It's about bloody time," Draco complained. "If we keep going on like this, we're not going to make it."

"Shut up," Harry and Ron said simultaneously. Draco groaned in frustration and leaned forward, changing the radio station again. He was about to skip past a particular station when Harry reached out and stopped him. "I like this song," he explained, sitting back down.

Draco nodded and sat down next to Harry, listening to the song. "Sounds like something from the eighties," he commented after a few seconds.

"Shut up," Ron and Harry repeated.

"What, you like it, too?" Draco asked Ron. Ron literally growled and clutched the steering wheel tightly, gnashing his teeth. Draco was about to continue to annoy Ron, but refrained from saying anything else when Harry started singing along.

"It's no good believing in somebody else if you can't believe in yourself

You give them the reason to take all the power and the wealth

It's no good, you trying to sit on the fence and hope that the trouble will pass

'Cause sitting on fences can make you a pain in the ass"

"Does it pick up eventually?" Draco asked, even though he found he was liking the song. Harry merely continued to sing along, and now Ron joined in as well, his voice slightly off key, providing a somewhat flat harmony.

"There's no conversation when nobody speaks; nothing gets done in the end

There's no confrontation when fantasy makes you its friend

So much in justice, too many lies; we don't have to look very far

And nothing will change if we leave things the way that they are"

Draco looked out through the window, straining his neck to see over a stack of suitcases. The song, oddly enough, was perfect for how he felt; they were all starting over, making changes, choosing to move on and live their lives the way they wanted to. Sure, they were all nervous, but they were excited, too. They were going to live after years of being repressed by the threat of war, and they were going to enjoy it. And Draco was going to be with Harry, and they were going to make each other blissfully miserable. Draco, knowing the words well enough now to sing along, opened his mouth and joined in loudly.

"If there's something you've found to believe in, then the message must get through

So don't just sit in silence when you know what to do"

Ron performed percussion on the steering wheel while the three of them bellowed the chorus, singing "Turn it up, make it louder" over and over again.

0000

Draco would be extremely happy if he never had to go through the ritual of getting on a damned plane ever again. They'd left for the airport hours before the flight was supposed to take off, but they'd still only had a few minutes to spare. And Ron had slowed everyone down even more by forgetting to take a collection of wizard money out of his pocket. Needless to say, the Muggles had been a bit curious about the unusual currency.

But now Draco and Harry were sitting together on the plane, and it was night, and the sky was dark, and rainclouds blocked the view below. Harry was asleep, leaning back in his seat, but Draco just couldn't seem to drift off. And this was extremely annoying because he was tired. Very tired. But something at the back of his mind was nagging at him, making sleep impossible. He tilted his head to the side, studying Harry's sleeping form intently.

Draco finally had Harry all to himself. Sure, they hadn't stopped seeing each other after school, but they'd been frequently separated because of the war. But now there was no Voldemort, no annoying family, no stupid "destiny" to get in the way, so they'd be together because it was all they really knew. Draco, Harry, and the rest of Harry's friends... they weren't going to just have fun and start over. They were really, for the first time, going to live _their _lives the way _they _saw fit.

0000

A/N: So there's the end of chapter twenty three, and if you didn't get it by now, it was pretty much in Draco's perspective. I didn't go into immense detail because, like I've said for a little while now, there's going to be a drawn out epilogue. Okay, there's one more chapter (I know I said this one would be the last one, but I sort of did what I always do and made a mistake. My nickname isn't "Whoops!" for nothing. Actually, I have two nicknames. The other name I go by... that is, besides my real name... is Snickerdoodle, simply because I like to cook. A lot. A lot as in, I really like to cook, and I do so often. Erhem.) which I'll post as soon as I can. Thank you, to those of you who reviewed frequently, for your effort! I generally give up on a story if I get bad or very few reviews because I feel it's not worth it. Hey, could you do me a favor and read my Angel/Spike fics? Just click on my author's name (er... that's Prose, in case you didn't know...) and check out all of my other stories. That is, if you want to. I just need the support.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

A/N: And this is the LAST CHAPTER of this fic. For real, this time. Seriously. Except for that whole series of epilogues thing. But, anyway, hope you enjoy (it's the last chapter. What more is there to say?). I... well, I can't really say I had _fun _writing this story because it wasn't exactly happy. But I'm sad that it's over. Anyway, read on (if you want to), and thank you, reviewers, for commenting! You make my world of fanfiction writing go round!

Side note: A lot of the instances that happen to the characters in this chapter have actually happened to me. And I'll be working a lot of my typical life into the one-shots. For instance, the thing that happens with the little girl and her mother... yeah, I accidentally taught my six year old neighbor the "'F' word," and now the mother gives me the evil eye every time she sees me (I had a good reason! I was late for the public bus, and they only come by every hour or so! I missed the damned ferry to Seattle! Okay, maybe fuck was a little strong, but...). Also, my best friend (yes, the icecream night friend) thinks Ben Burnley (frontman of Breaking Benjamin) is hot (okay, I think he doesn't look to shabby, but, I'm telling you, my friend is one step away from being _obsessed_).

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Chapter Twenty Four

"Do you know that I could never leave you?

And know that I could never beat you

And if I could never find you, never mind; I would not forget you"

"Ow!" Ron shouted, clutching his right hand with his left and jumping around the hallway. "Mother fu... er, hello," he said, cutting himself off and smiling painfully at a little girl that was standing in the doorway of her apartment, regarding him solemnly with her thumb in her mouth. A few seconds later, a woman came into view behind her, a scowl twisting her features. "Um..." Ron trailed off, biting his lower lip, "hi. I'm Ron. Nice day, isn't it?"

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Draco's clearing his throat. "Yes, and for someone that said _I _was slacking off..." Ron turned around and glared at Draco, who was waiting on the other side of the doorway for Ron to resume pushing a table into Draco and Harry's new apartment.

"Are you the new neighbors?" the woman asked, disapproval clear in her tone as she continued to frown at Ron, her hands resting on the girl's shoulders as if ready to cover her ears to block out any further attempts at profanity.

"We are." Harry, who had just come down the hall, set his armful of cardboard boxes on the floor and waved his hand between himself and Draco before holding it out to the woman. "I'm Harry, that's Draco, and this..." he jerked his head toward his best friend, "is Ron. He's helping us move in."

The woman pursed her lips for a few seconds, then reached out and shook hands with Harry. "I'm Erica Stewart, and this is my daughter, Sharon."

Draco leaned over the table, bracing himself against the doorway, and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Stewart. Miss Stewart." When he addressed Sharon, he managed a small bow and wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggle and duck her head shyly. "We'll have _him _out of your hair soon enough," he said, jerking his head toward Ron.

Harry sighed and shook his head, then smiled tiredly at Mrs. Stewart. "We'll have all of this out of your way in a minute or two," he said, leaning against the table.

"Oh, would you like some help?" Mrs. Stewart asked.

"No, there're more people on the way," Harry replied, staring down the hall. "Or they _should _be on the way."

"Probably skipped out on all the work," Draco muttered.

"Lucky sons of... oh shi... I mean... er... how about we get this table inside?" Ron avoided Mrs. Stewart's gaze and turned to Draco, who was managing to smile at him evilly while frowning disapprovingly at the same time.

"Tilt it to the left," Harry said, bending over to pick up some of the boxes, "so you don't knock over that lamp when you get it inside."

Draco and Ron complied, then walked the table in slowly, setting it upright in the middle of the room. Just as Harry was putting the boxes on the table, Hermione and Willow entered the apartment, carrying the remainder of Draco and Harry's luggage. "Took you long enough," Draco said, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "We thought you'd skipped out on us."

"Oh, don't think we didn't consider it," Dean grunted as he came through the doorway, carrying a huge bundle of blankets and pillows. "Never thought a couple of quilts could be so damned heavy... oh, shit, help!" he groaned as the load began to topple over, threatening to knock over the one lamp that the superintendent had provided for the apartment so that Draco and Harry would be able to see at night.

"Crap!" Hermione exclaimed, diving across the room to help her boyfriend steady the small tower of blankets in his arms. "Where the hell is Seamus?" she demanded.

"Guarding the car," Dean replied wryly.

"Ugh. That's it. When we get to the duplex, he's unloading everything by himself," Hermione grumbled.

"He'll break everything that isn't his," Dean pointed out.

Hermione groaned. "Why is he living with us, then?" she asked. Dean merely shrugged.

"Because you're the only ones with a two bedroom complex," Willow explained. "It's a pretty lucky thing that Ron can stay in my dorm with me as it is."

"Yeah, and we can't be disrupting the other residents in this building," Draco, who didn't really care at all about the other residents in the building, added.

"You don't give a rat's ass about anyone else in this building," Ron retorted.

"Yes, I do..."

"Harry doesn't count," Ron interrupted.

"Um, okay, well, is that everything?" Willow asked, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking around. "You need any help moving in?" he asked Hermione and Dean.

"Nope," Hermione replied. "Pansy and Millie have already mostly cleaned out the place, and, considering all of the energy that Seamus has reserved by 'guarding the car,' we'll manage just fine, thank you." With that, she led Dean out of the apartment.

"Well, we'll see you soon," Willow said, smiling cheerfully.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You likes school far too much."

"It's not like 'school' school," Willow protested. "It's _college_. I'll be considered an adult. I'll be respected." At Draco's snort, Willow frowned and left the apartment with Ron, who kept glaring back at Draco over his shoulder.

Harry sighed and closed the door behind them. He looked at Draco for a few seconds, then picked up a few blankets from the pile that Dean had carried up for them and made his way to the room that would be their bedroom.

"What?" Draco asked, following him. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing," Harry said, spreading a quilt out on the floor.

"Well, then, why do I feel like a jackass?" Draco bent over and began to help Harry create a makeshift bed on the floor that they would end up using until they could go out and buy furniture.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know." He avoided Draco's eyes.

"What's wrong? Come on, you'd better tell me before it all blows up in our faces."

"Would it really kill you to be nicer to people?" Harry asked, finally looking up at Draco."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean like Weasley?"

"I just mean people in general." Harry left the room temporarily and brought back two pillows.

"I _have_ been nice," Draco said.

"Oh, right," Harry deadpanned. "Just... could you... I don't know. Forget I said anything, all right?"

"Harry...?" Draco frowned slightly, concerned.

"I said forget it." Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then rose to his feet. "Want to go watch a movie or something?" he asked.

"No, I do not want to change the subject," Draco replied. "What's up?" When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Draco cut him off. "No, something's wrong. Come on, I've always known when something's bothering you. How the hell else would I have been able to strike a nerve so well when we were in school?"

Harry sighed. "It's just a nerve thing, you know?" he said, kneeling back down on the floor. "We're... we're _here_. In _America_. It's just homesickness."

"I thought you hated your home," Draco said. "And I didn't like that stupid family of yours either when we had to get all of your stuff."

"Yeah, I gathered that when you blasted the wall next to Vernon's head to bits," Harry said dryly. "I told you it was stupid."

"No, it's not stupid. I'm a little nervous, too," Draco said, moving closer to Harry. "The thing is, where would you rather be right now?"

Harry thought about it for a few seconds, then said, "Here." He rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "How the hell do you always know what to say?"

"I'm just intuitive like that," Draco replied, running his fingers through Harry's hair. "So, you want to catch that movie..." he trailed off and kissed the top of Harry's head, "or do you want to stay here and find something else to do?"

Harry exhaled and raised his head, looking at Draco. "We haven't had sex in the apartment yet."

Draco grinned. "It's only fair to let every room in this place know exactly what to expect."

"Yeah. But let's get some more blankets so I can move tomorrow, okay?" Harry said, already standing up to get more quilts from the other room.

"Pussy," Draco called after him.

"And here I thought one of the reasons you loved me was because I didn't _have _one of those," Harry retorted, coming back with an armful of blankets.

"Well, yeah," Draco agreed. "But that's more like a bonus." Harry looked at Draco, puzzled. Draco reached out and snatched Harry's wrists, pulling Harry down so he was straddling the white-blonde. "I love you because you're the only person in this world who can infuriate, confuse, amaze, and arouse me so much at the same time." He kissed the tip of Harry's nose. "And because you're not afraid to slap me down." Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "I also love how you get cold so easily, and how you sing Heart songs in the shower, and how you won't let anyone in the kitchen when you're cooking, and how you tape all of Breaking Benjamin's music videos so you can watch Ben Burnley sing... oh, and I'll find that cute as long as you don't have groupie sex with him or anything like that."

"Look out, Malfoy," Harry said, blushing slightly, "you're beginning to sound like a cheesy romance novel."

"No, cheesy romance novels would involve my 'making sweet love' to you," Draco said.

Harry grimaced. "Can what we do even be classified as... making love?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter _how _we do it. Just matters that we do it." Draco laughed when Harry continued to look uncomfortable. "It's a little late to pull the blushing virgin act, isn't it?"

Harry scowled and slapped Draco's arm. "Shut it."

"Mm, I love it when you pout, too," Draco said, running his tongue along Harry's lower lip before kissing him.

"You're ripping off some forty-something year old romance novelist," Harry muttered into Draco's mouth.

Draco pulled away, then pushed Harry back onto the blankets. "So let's do something that we're not likely to find in one of those novels."

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Harry stared up at the ceiling, listening to Draco's soft, even breathing. They'd just finished having sex. No, not having sex. He and Draco had definitely done something different. They'd made love. There was no other term for it. They hadn't pounded each other into the floor. It had been soft and slow. It had very well near killed them both, but it had been worth it. And Harry felt complete and shattered at the same time. And then, as if sensing Harry's darkening mood, Draco frowned and reached out, wrapping his arms around Harry.

The man that lived next door turned on his TV, turning up the volume until Harry could hear an old sitcom through the walls. He wished he hadunpacked his stereo. He'd gotten used to music playing throughout the night, and he hadn't had the time toget outhis belongings, including the box holding his stereo.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. After a few minutes, he opened them again and blew his hair out of his eyes. Draco had helped him forget about his nervousness, but now the apprehension was back. And he didn't know why the hell he feltthe wayhe did. He'd been looking forward to coming to America for a year, at least, and now that he was here, he almost wanted to go back overseas. He shook his head to clear it of his disturbing thoughts. Everything would be fine. All of his friends were with him.

Harry rolled over onto his side and looked at Draco. The blonde was still frowning slightly and stroking Harry's arm. Draco always seemed to know when something was bothering Harry. And it unnerved Harry a little bit. He wasn't quite as intuitive as Draco. Sure, he always knew how to make Draco feel better, but he didn't know how to keep Draco from feeling bad in the first place; he was simply reactionary. Draco just always seemed to _know_. They could have a continent between them and Draco would still know that something was wrong. Seriously. During the war, Harry and Draco had had to be split up temporarily, and, just when Harry was starting to feel absolutely miserable, Draco had actually _called _him on a _Muggle phone_ and had simply said, "Snap out of it, and I love you," before hanging up. And Harry had, in fact, snapped out of it. Just like that.

Grinning slightly, Harry reached out and brushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from Draco's face. "You know you've ruined me for everyone else, right?" Harry murmured. "Even if I somehow happen to miraculously come across Ben Burnley on the streets somewhere, I won't be able to jump him or anything." He laughed softly. "I'll probably run and find you first thing to tell you I saw him. Miss my only chance to speak to him, or take a picture, or something like that." He moved closer to Draco, feeling the cold start to seep into the room. "You better not every leave me, damnit, or I swear I'll die."

"Golden Boy deflects the Killing Curse, only to be defeated by a broken heart," Draco said quietly, grinning slyly.

"You bastard, you were awake the whole damn time!" Harry hissed, slapping Draco's head.

Draco merely laughed. "So, even Ben Burnley, the Sex God, pales in comparison to me?" Harry scowled and rolled over so his back was facing Draco. A few seconds later, Draco's arm snaked over his waist. "Come on, I didn't mean to trick you," he said, kissing the nape of Harry's neck. "I was just sort of drifting off when that damned neighbor of ours turned on the TV."

Harry laced his fingers with Draco's. "Not mad at you," he said.

"I know."

"Yeah. I know you know. Prick."

Draco chuckled. "Good night, Harry."

"'Night, Draco," Harry said, suddenly feeling sleepy. Finally.

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A/N: Yes, this is, in fact, the end of this story. Because there is a stretched out epilogue on the way. So, if you enjoyed this fic, look for "Get Dressed Before You Kill Ron," the first one-shot in a series that continues from this point on. Well, not this author's note, but from... oh, you get the idea. However, I do have to update "Running To Stand Still," "Family. Both of them," and "Have I Mentioned How Much I Hate You?" first. Thank you so much for seeing this story to the end! It was probably the easiest fic for me to write so far.


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